


Anthesis

by Dafter_D



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Character Development, Character Study, Coming of Age, Doesn't really adhere to one genre over the other?, Exploration of character motivation, Exploration of childhood trauma, Gen, I'm writing whatever happens in this man's life, More Mental than Physical, No Rose bashing here, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, illustrations included each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dafter_D/pseuds/Dafter_D
Summary: Among the rolling Stonkirk countryside, a young boy takes his first steps into the world. From childhood to chairmanship, through love and loss, this is the life of a man who would go on to become one of Galar's most influential figures.The is the lengthy tale of Rose Baird.
Relationships: Original/Canon character relationships included, There will be many relationships, This is a long long story
Comments: 51
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome! Better intro/explanation of this project at the end. Until then, hope you enjoy!

"Mum.......Mum.."

No response.

Rose did his best to roll over under the suffocating sheets, a small whine escaping when his movement was followed by chill air - as turning towards his mum had exposed his back to the rest of the dark room. A definite problem. One he quickly corrected with no small amount of shuffling. 

"Muumm.."

A little louder this time. He placed a tiny trembling hand on her back.

"Mmmmnnnn.."Camellia stirred just a little. Success! "What's the matter, baby..?"

He scooched back a bit as his mum turned towards him, a gesture which disturbed his once cocooned coverage, but brought with it comfort nonetheless. She didn't move much after that, though...barely even opened her eyes. But he could tell that she was somewhat alert, so he took the stage. 

"I, um, it’s um-"

Camellia couldn't help but smile lazily through her exhaustion as the distant sounds of her son stuttering in that patented 4 year old way began to grace her ears.

"Mmmhmm.." was the only response she could really give. Whatever this explanation was, it was probably going to take a lifetime. So she might as well start waking herself up now.

"u-um..it's the light.."

Still tucked so deeply into the covers that only the top of his head and eyes could be seen, Rose allowed about 5 seconds for his hand to be free of safety so he could point at a light in the hall. Pointing which Camellia knew...she was going to have to sit up and acknowledge. So, mustering up all the energy of a heater in the dead of winter, she began the cumbersome process of trying to dissuade her son's fears at 3 in the morn. 

"What’s goin' on with the light, Rose?" Her tone was calm, motherly, as she squinted in the general direction she THINKS he was pointing in. It happened so fast, she wasn't sure at this point. But luckily for her, the next explanation was a rather direct one. Maybe they could expedite this process after all.

"Its, um if the light is on....the yecky 'll come..."

**The Yecky?**

Okay so admittedly 3 am was way too early for her to be able to decipher toddlerese, but she was prepared to try.

"The Yecky..?"

"Mm..hmm.." Rose hid deeper into the covers, his voice shakily trailing off.

".....ohh...y'mean the **Lecky**...?"

"uhm, uhm yeah...the Lecky...he's, uh, he's gonna come..and, and.."

 _Uh huhh...? he's gonna come and what?_ Camellia thought to herself, trying not to let the fact that her mum had likely told her baby son this horrifying nan's tale get under her skin. Let's just see what the consequences were first. Rose continued stammering, but finally managed to get to his point

" he's um..nan said if I leave the light on he's gonna come and.. and eat my toes..."

**His TOES?**

Well it's much better than the whole _he'll eat you and your friends alive_ angle her mum was peddling back when she was a wee thing, so Camellia couldn't help but sigh in relief. And enter repair mode. Quickly. Yes. _As soon as possible._

"Well..." she began, uncovering Rose's face just a little and feeling her heart flutter a bit as he stared back at her with those pretty little green eyes. 

_Make it alright, mum_

she could hear him thinking. And that's exactly what she planned to do. 

"We can't have that, can we? Let mum go turn off the light...gotta keep them toes safe, or ye won't be fit to start school tomorrow, will ye?"

Rose nodded, watching as Camellia forced herself out of the plush, patchwork sheets and into the cold for his sake. His widened eyes softened at the comforting click of the empty bathroom’s light, the hall going black as his mum’s silhouette came shambling back in as quickly and quietly as she could. And to this, Rose issued a sigh of relief.

**After all, the dark was scary, but nan said that wasting energy was far scarier.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like many others (probably), I did not expect to come out of SWSH with much of an altered opinion of Chairman Rose at all. Twist villain? Okay, we been knew.  
> Buuuuut I was taken for a ride by how deeply I came to relate to him the moment he spilled is plans to the champion. 
> 
> Generalized Anxiety Disorder is a chronic, and often irrational, worry for the future. And this man has that in SPADES. And BOY is that a mood.
> 
> Unfortunately for me and many others who came to love the character...his motivations in-game are not as explained as they should have been, though the framework is excellently laid out. But there was just alot of missed potential. Not that i'm here to completely solve that, per say...I'm just a girl who's as passionate about Rose as she is about exploring long term character development. And as my own therapy sessions have come to prove, sometimes the mental illness you might think started out of nowhere was actually homegrown all along...
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this step into the story of Anthesis, and this exploration of Rose's development as a person. It's gonna be a LONG one, oo boy. But hopefully one you'll love watching evolve over, well, however long this takes to create :)


	2. A Rose Sprouts in Galar Greens

Comfy shirt? Check.

Jammie bottoms? Check.

Pop’s old garden shades? Check.

Rose brushed himself off like he’d seen his favorite characters do in his old cartoons, and strained those teensy tippy toes as much as he could, struggling to even make it a quarter of the way above the marble counter and into the mirror’s view. 

“Oh..!” 

It suddenly occurred to him... his outfit was not yet complete and that would have been a travesty. Without delay he grabbed his blue backpack off of the closed toilet lid, grunting dramatically as he tried to squeeze his arms through the straps. That backpack of his was stuffed to near bursting, but that’s only because he absolutely had to bring his friends Miss Fanty and Mister Nick with him. The plush coufant and nickit were admittedly a bit crammed, but he would make sure to apologize to them later. Of course, what good was getting his whole outfit perfect if he still couldn’t see himself in the bathroom mirror.

“Ohh yeah!”

Mum’s Room. She had a big floor mirror in there.

And so, he adjusted the backpack to make sure it was secure, and made for his location….only to be promptly cut off before he could even make it through the bathroom doorway by a familiar pair of tan legs.

“Rose…W-what’re ye wearing..?” 

Camellia shot the boy a frankly baffled look. One she figured he couldn’t even see because this adorable son of hers thought it’d be a good idea to wear shades in the house. She gently pressed him further back into the bathroom and kneeled down to him, thick brown locks falling forward over her shoulders as she shuffled them out of view of the hallway. Couldn’t have anybody from the kitchen interrupting this moment with accusations of loitering, could she? Rose readjusted, and threw his arms out to the sides as if presenting himself to her.

“It’s, um, It’s my school clothes! Do ye like em, mum?”

“Rose, c’mon ye can’t--” Camellia paused, clearing her throat. Important matters first, corrections later. “I love em. Y’ look very very handsome.”

Rose smiled the absolute sweetest grin. That didn’t stop what was coming.

“But” Camellia continued “Ye can’t go to school like that.C’mon let’s get ye dressed proper.”

“Awwhhhhhh, but--” 

“Alright, alright, shhh. Don’t want the whole house hearing ye makin’ a stink do ye?”

Rose’s shoulders slumped, but he took his mum’s much larger hand nonetheless as she led him to their bedroom. These clothes were so much more comfortable, but he knew he’d have to switch into his real clothes eventually. He wished he could just spin and sparkle and poof into them like the characters on his favorite shows, but alas he was stuck sliding into one stiff arm hole after the other,the white button up shirt’s collar finished off with...what did his mum call it? A Tie? 

He looked sideways at the grand, wooden mirror - squinting curiously as his mum mumbled to herself, trying to decide whether or not to roll up his shorts. 

His school uniform wasn’t bad...but he liked the other outfit **much** better.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Breakfast was usually brief, consisting of him and his mum barely spending enough time in the kitchen to gulf down some sitrus and waffles before she carried him off to daycare. But since he wasn’t going to daycare today, he wondered what sights were waiting for him in that yellow walled room. Oh! Maybe a going away party? With lots of presents and new stuffed friends for Miss Fanty and Mister Nick? 

Not quite. But nevertheless, his eyes still widened enthusiastically at the sight of his grandparents filling their spots at the table.

“Nan! Pop!” 

Rose let go of his mum’s hand and picked up the pace just enough to find himself stood directly in front of the old wooden table - top of his head barely reaching the edge of the flat surface.

“G’morning, Rose! Yer lookin sharper than a shelmet, m’boy.”

Roald smiled down at his grandson, closed eyes accentuating the growing wrinkles on that soft, chubby face. To his right sat a well dressed older woman, fairly straight in her posture with short hair that only served to top off her stern image. She placed her newspaper down neatly in line with her plate. Rose smiled up at his nan as well, watching as the edges of her mouth curled upward just a bit, and those silver eyes seemed to soften while returning his gaze. The more they softened, the wider his grin often spread.

“Rose, y’need some breakfast. Why don’t ye let nan get ye some cornflakes n’ milk, hm?”

“W-with sugar!?” Rose balled his little hands into fists, all but vibrating with excitement.

“Aye. With as much sugar as ye want.” 

Dahlia stood, making her way over to the cabinet, as Camellia followed with her eyes. She hesitated for a bit, but it had to be said.

“Mum, no, Rose doesn’t need sugar..! Or cornflakes, it’s his first day of school, ye needn’t--”

“Oh hush now, girl-” Came the sharp reply, as the older woman fished a ragged box of cereal from the cabinet 

“He’s a big boy now, goin to school n all. Ye need to lighten up a bit. Let the boy have a lil fun.”

“Yeah!” 

Rose’s voice rang out in response, before he was very gently, and urgently, hushed by Roald - who picked him up and placed him at the table with all the finer fixings such as his favorite bowl atop his old, heavily marked dry erase placemat. 

But Camellia still stood square in the center of the kitchen, finally tearing her glare from the back of her mother to look desperately at her father. Only he could do something about this. And, as usual, he did no such thing. Defeated, she took her place at the table, continuing her meal - which had admittedly gone a bit cold since she had to break to check on her son. Watching as he bobbed up and down in anticipation while Roald poured milk into his bowl of flakes. 

“Okay, okay..” 

Camellia intervened, tapping the table slightly, and Roald stopped pouring with the very obvious cue before Rose cartoonishly licked his lips and began to dig in. 

_Please let this boy drink the milk on his own…_ came Camellia’s wishful thoughts.

The rest of breakfast was drawn out and generally quiet - as Rose’s attempts to break silence were met with the usual cries of “no bletherin’ with yer mouth full” from both of his grandparents - and before they knew it, it was time to leave. 

\---------------------------------------

Stonkirk Island was well known for gracing its populace with persistently beautiful weather, and today bore no difference. Houses in their neighborhood sat perched up on these curious grass covered, cobblestone-esque pedestals, with almost every driveway consisting of a relatively steep incline. And all of the driveways led directly to the road, pouring into it like personal creeks forming a unified river. Beyond the houses were the titular Galar Greens - the sun-bathed, rolling grassy hills that Rose’s neighborhood was named for. He rocked back and forth on his heels as some Pidove flew overhead, waiting for his mum to join him in the yard. And when the door closed behind him, he whipped around with a cheeky grin.

“Wait-” the smile faded as he cocked his head to the side “A-Are nan and pop coming?”

Camellia adjusted the black purse sliding quickly down her arm, shoving her set of keys into a random pocket after very quietly shutting and locking the door. Thankfully the two of them made it out with relatively little fanfare, though regrettably she did end up having to help Rose finish the rest of his incredibly sugary bowl of milk...But increasingly upset stomach aside, she turned to her son as he began to walk closer.

“They aren’t coming, okay? It’s just the two of us for now.”

“Why?”

Camellia chewed her bottom lip a bit. How exactly was she meant to explain this…

“Weell, it’s a bit early for nan and pop. So i’m takin ye myself. For now.”

 _Plus she really didn’t want to deal with her mum for longer than she had to._ But she wasn’t expected to tell him this, right? That, and she had to be extra careful not to spoil the surprise coming up ahead...

“B-b-but..!” Rose was bouncing up and down on his tippy toes now, gripping the straps of his bookbag tightly as he looked up at his mum with furrowed brow 

“What about my bye?” this question came with a frantic hand wave.

“Yer bye?”

“Yeah!” His bottom lip began to poke out ever so slightly. Camellia stared off to the side for a second, the cogs turning furiously as she tried to figure out what this meant. She took a leap of faith, kneeling gently before him and taking on that familiar tone.

“Oh, Rose~ Didn’t ye hear nan and pop tell ye to have a good day?” It happened while she was washing dishes, so maybe the noise was too distracting ?

“Oh..yeah..” 

The boy looked down at his shoes. Camellia felt her hand twitch a bit, wanting to comfort him. But, what was he even upset about? Was he upset at all? Maybe the milk was starting to get to him… Suddenly his head shot up, and he took a deep, resolved breath, waving vigorously at something behind her. She turned, noting nobody there. No one in the doorway, the window. No one anywhere at all. 

“Buh bye! Ye know, um..I’m really gunna miss this place…”

Camellia stood, blinking down in rapid succession as her son finished his sentence with not only a surprising amount of tonal clarity, but a nod, and another brief look downward. He then grabbed her hand tightly. But before he could turn and lead her down the driveway, she planted herself.

“Rose..” She began, no longer taking her usual motherly tone out of pure confusion, a small smile breaking out, and brow showing signs of an obvious struggle to contain herself.

“Ye know yer comin back here...right?”

He had to know that...didn’t he?

“WAIT. I AM??”

No. He. He didn’t know?? 

Camellia’s shoulders began shaking. Oh lord, she was going to break. She turned away from the boy staring up at her with mouth agape and clenched fists as a skwovet began squeaking right on cue in a tree nearby. Rose’s expression remained unchanged as he waited for his mum to answer his dire question. When no such answer came, he took it upon himself to press a bit further.

“BUT. I’m, um, i’m gettin on a bus, right?”

Rose began to fiddle a bit with the bottom of his shirt, eyes still locked on his mum. For all he knew, this mysterious bus thing was whisking him away to someplace far off. That’s why he brought his friends along, of course. Stuffed in his backpack as they were. And Camellia at this point had no choice but to let the smallest chuckle out. Hands that were once twitching with uncertainty found themselves firmly planted on Rose’s shoulders as she once again kneeled before the boy.

“The bus ain’t a one way ordeal, baby…” She smiled, continuing as his worried brow began to soften 

“Yer comin back just like any other day, yknow? Now c’mon, we don’t want to miss the thing, do we?”

“W-wait, so, um, so i’ll see nan and pop after tonight?”

“Aye. That’s right.”

Camellia’s heart softened as Rose gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, the two of them finally squeezing past her father’s car - and this situation - to take to the sidewalk. What a strange little predicament...And just like the morning dew, it seemed to evaporate as quickly as it settled. Each step putting Rose in higher and higher spirits, the two of them walking comfortably hand in hand, either fiddling with or swinging their free ones. 

Looking down at the ground, noticing all of the sturdy, newly fallen branches. That was Camellia’s specialty...As every pebble, grain of dirt and blade of grass felt imbued with a different memory of her many nights spent on this path. Tapping rhythmically along the cobblestone mounds with whatever stick she could find, lazily kicking stones farther ahead..or off to the sides to someplace unknown. Steadying her increasing heartrate as the ringing of recent conflict echoed in her ears under the twinkling night sky. On this path, far from others, she couldn’t be hurt...On this path, though embraced by the evening air, she felt her loneliness amplified...

On this path, at the dizzying crossroads, she came face to face with **him**.

“Pa..!!”  
A tiny, sharp gasp followed by an excited exclamation shook Camellia from her thoughts. The sight of her son bolting full speed towards a dark skinned man in a yellow and orange reflective vest brought her back to reality.

“Rose! Be careful, please!”

The boy’s little legs were nothing but a blur, arms pumping at his sides as hard as they could to get him to his location just a bit faster. The lower straps of his backpack flipped round just as wildly in the wind as his growing fringe, often times whipping the bare skin of his arms. But the slight pain didn’t stop him. _The sidewalk did._

Camellia picked up the pace, reaching out futilely as her son’s foot caught in a snag and he lunged forward. Luckily, into the strong arms of that aforementioned dark skinned man. A man who very carefully sat the boy up right as a few other kids of varying ages and their mothers nearby watched with bated breath. Rose held on tightly to him, each of his hands clasping onto each of those muscular arms as the slight disorientation subsided. 

“Gabriel...” his distraught mum caught up at last, and the 4 year old could feel her concern blanketing him from behind as she uttered a hushed “M’ goodness...”

“I’m okay, mum!” Rose whipped around to shoot Camellia a reassuring smile, the dizzying speed at which he turned causing him to fall backwards into the man’s arms yet again. Gabriel, as the man was called, sat him up right and took a more comfortable squat to spare himself from having to bend over for too long.

“No scrapes here. Right, mum?” came the calm, low voice from behind Rose - who giggled and squirmed as the vibrations tickled his ear, and the man reached around to pinch his knees. A bit of a strange gesture, admittedly, but when the disquieted mothers nearby saw how comfortable the boy was with the stranger previously waiting alone at the bus stop, they saw it fit to avert their gazes. And slightly loosen their grips on their own children, of course.

“Right, Right…” before she knew it, Camellia had also taken a squat. Although maintaining the position was a bit much for how hard her heart had been racing, and so she very carefully took a knee instead.

“Rose, ye have to be careful. Y’know ye can’t run too well yet. I don’t want ye hurting yerself at school, okay?”

“Mmmmm okay..!” was her son’s response, followed by the usual move he did whenever he was being lightly scolded. Camellia observed it like clockwork. First, his arms were brought in and hands found each other, then his head lowered. What came next was the most dangerous bit. The slight raising and twisting of shoulders, as those big verdant eyes searched her own for forgiveness. It’s like he knew exactly what motions were guaranteed to drag that smile of hers right back to the surface. And she fell for it every time.

Gabriel chuckled a bit to himself as he watched the two, noting as one glance from their son brought a certain glow back to the woman. 

“Alright,” he began, giving Rose’s shoulders the slightest shake while addressing his partner “I reckon the bus’ll be here soon, yeah? We ought to get a bit closer--”

Without even a second to register, the man found himself being clung to. Climbed, even. 

“Carry me?” came the muffled request as Rose wrapped his arms around his Pa’s neck and turned his head to look up - his gaze instead being met only by the dark, thick underside of Gabriel’s freshly trimmed beard.

“Roooseee” his mum, exasperated, leaned in to pry his little body off of the larger man “Yer a big boy now, ye can walk…!”

Infact, he was literally just walking. What happened in a matter of minutes?? She met Gabriel’s emerald eyes, those jewels contrasting beautifully against his skin and never failing to make her hitch a breath or two. 

_Are ye going to do somethin about this?_

All it took was a gentle nudging look before the man pulled away ever so slightly, instead lowering himself back down until those tiny shoes were carefully planted on the sidewalk once more.

“Mum’s right. Big boys walk.” 

_‘Short. Sweet. To the point. A Gabriel specialty..’_ Camellia reflected as she watched him straighten Rose out yet again, this time fully standing to take his hand so no further climbing attempts could occur. 

_‘He always gets him to listen so well..Much better than myself--’_

She found her thoughts interrupted by the softest possession of her index and ring finger as their son scampered back to keep her in the hand holding loop. Rising, she joined the two in finally closing the gap between their location and the actual destination - the bus stop which had become increasingly more crowded with a few teens from the neighborhood joining the fray. Wait. There were teenagers at this bus stop too..? Maybe she should have scoped things out beforehand…

“Excited for school?”

“Mmmmm...yes! I think.”

“You think, huh?”

“Mmhm, um. It’s because, um.” Rose paused in walking for a slight second to catch his thoughts, try to form them properly. 

“Well, what’s a school like? Is it like Miss Viola and Miss Renae’s?”

Gabriel shot a perplexed look to his left.

“It’s a little like that,” Mum picked up where Pa left off, as this was her field of expertise - if you could call it that “Except ye won’t be playing all day. Yer gonna have to do work.”

To the confused man, she gave a hushed 

_“Miss Viola and Renae are his daycare instructors, yknow?”_

To which he nodded gratefully. 

“What kinda work?” Rose continued, a game now being made of following his parents’ passed looks with his own. And this time, the ball was in Gabriel’s court, so he turned his head accordingly.

“Hmm, Maths. Sciences. All that fun stuff. Get you all sorted for the future n’ all that…”

His voice trailed off as he noticed Camellia avert her gaze, shoulders bobbing just a little - the woman getting a good laugh at the assertion that their son would be learning _any_ sciences in primary 1. But then again she couldn’t blame the man.

It had been a long time since either of them was 4 after all.

With a concerning screech, an aged, pale yellow vehicle rounded the corner, chugging its way toward the 4 way intersection they knew so well, and all three of their heads snapped up - watching as the bus doors slammed open with even more worrying sounds. Not the bus they awaited, as its direction indicated it was heading south from there. Rose fixed his eyes on the foreign mode of transport, his lower jaw dropping a little at the size of its wheels and the way it bounced as more and more people climbed into its confines. His inhale stuttering at the idea of getting on there alone…

“Okay,” the soft address tore him from his thoughts, as Camellia placed herself in front of him - blocking his view but catching his attention as intended

“Y’know that yer going to get off at the same spot. Right here, right?”

She pointed aggressively downward to accentuate her message 

“Now ye’ve got to pay attention alright, Rose? Make sure ye get off ONLY when ye see either Miss Viola or Miss Renae--”

“Miss Viola and Miss Renae are coming??” the boy lit up on a tangent as usual, giving his mum the task of reeling him back in again

“Miss Viola OR Miss Renae will be waiting here for ye when ye come home on the bus at noon. Ye HAVE to keep an eye out for them okay?”

Unless they forget…? Should she call them again, let them know? Maybe she should come pick him up herself... But then she had to go into work at noon, and she’d absolutely be late if that were the case

“Rose” came Gabriel’s smooth, low cadence as he caught sight of Camellia’s eyes darting back and forth, the woman lost in her regular rhythm of considering all possibilities - he assumed.

“If your daycare teachers aren’t out, or you get confused, you can ask your bus driver for help. He should have your address. He can get you home in no time.”

Camellia’s shoulders loosened and she sighed.

“Right. Mr.Charles, was it? A real nice fellow from what i remember at open house. Talk to him if yer ever lost, like Pa said. Wait, ye remember yer bus number right?”

Rose confidently threw up his right hand, fingers reflecting the statement

“It’s, um...four..!”

“Noooo..! It’s fourTEEN, Rose. Remember, one. Four. Fourteen. Can’t have ye gettin on the wrong bus, baby..!”

One. Four. Fourteen. Rose’s eyes darted around as he held his head down, configuring his fingers accordingly. One. Four. Fourteen. Not Four. He had convinced himself it was the later several times over. But it wasn’t. It was fourteen. He gripped the straps of his backpack, only to be reminded that his friends were probably aching to be let free. Could he really do this…

Camellia briefly glanced elsewhere in an effort to shake off the concern, her eyes unexpectedly settling on the old brown pickup truck pulled over at the side of the road. Which seemed to utter a mechanical groan as the much larger - and more saturated - bus assumed its position closer to the curb. Her head jerked back to Gabriel, a small whispered plea escaping

“Are ye sure we can’t just drive him there…?”

Not loud enough for Rose to hear, and not really a question at all since she knew the answer. They’d talked about this briefly before. Neither of their schedules allowed them to consistently drive Rose to school. As a matter of fact, Gabriel had to pull a string or two to come in later than usual just to see his son off. It was better if their boy got used to riding the bus straight out of the gate.

And now it was here to claim him.

_He’ll be FINE._

Gabriel’s reciprocated glance seemed to communicate, the softening of those green eyes trapping her in the moment. In the time it seemed they really didn’t have to spare, as the bus was loading up fast. With his reflective jacket shimmering in whatever light it could catch during the swift movement, the large man scooped up his son so efficiently that the boy didn’t even notice his feet were no longer on the ground. That is, until the breeze of his Pa’s brisk stride caught in his hair and he beamed 

“Heeeyy, you said big boys walk.” 

“Big boys do walk.” came the fairly calm retort “but big boys also have wee little legs, and we ought to get you there as quickly as possible.”

Rose squirmed slightly, straining to look down at his dangling legs. They weren’t _that_ small... And he wasn’t _that_ bad at running. Was he..?

Well fortunately - or unfortunately - for him, there was very little time to think on the matter as he found himself lightly placed at the foot of a cold metal set of steps. The first as high as his knees. Rose’s stare panned upwards, receiving a wave from a red-cheeked, bald man with thin framed glasses and the thickest moustache he had ever seen.

“G’mornin!” 

The kind words seeped into one ear and promptly out the other as Rose’s lips quivered a bit.They would not utter a thing, so he raised a small hand, fingers barely extended enough to count as a wave back. Gabriel felt his throat tighten as his son looked back at him in what he could only describe as uncharacteristic silence. Over to Camellia the man glanced. Not a great idea, as he frankly couldn’t figure out who was going to break into tears first. 

“Morning to you” Gabriel returned the man’s greeting. “Would you mind if..”

His sentence faded prematurely as the bus driver nodded with enthusiasm at his gesture towards the frozen boy. 

He delicately took his child’s left hand, placing it on the railing. The motion of his fingers being wrapped around cold steel tore Rose from his deliberation, pulled him from the deafening clutches of that whirring engine and brought him back to the task at hand.

The first step was alot, though not nearly as big of a journey for his leg as getting in the bathtub on his own. So he could manage.

“One step at a time.” Gabriel placed a hand on the small - well, the small of the small - of Rose’s back to guide him up, but directed these words back at his partner. Back at Camellia who was laser focused on watching for any sign of foot trouble. 

The next step was...unexpected, as Rose now stood before a far-reaching aisle. Each side of it lined with seats going back for what seemed like forever. And each seat housed a different pair of eyes, some preoccupied with the window, some focused on each other. But the longer he stood there, the more he felt like a magnet for their stares.

“Rose…?” 

“Pa??” Gabriel yet again pulled Rose out of his head, and the boy whipped round to face him as fast as he could in this semi-cramped space, hands tightly gripping the straps of his backpack

“Yer comin with me?? Mum too??”

The last thing he expected was for his Pa to follow him into the mouth of this metal beast, his question hanging in the air with unwavering anticipation. Gabriel inhaled, the shakiest breath he’d taken all morning as he was forced to break the news to his small, hopeful child. His mind flashed back to Camellia, shoulders stiffening at what she must be thinking right now with them taking so long. And yet, coming back to reality was no better, with Rose peering up at him - rocking with impatience as those usually heavy lids of his got just a bit heavier with each passing second.

“Mum and I can’t come with you, Rose. We have to go to work...you’ll have to do this on your own, i’m afraid.”

Being straightforward had never been so difficult.

“Oh yeah..o-okay..” Rose managed to steady his breaths just a little. Besides, Mum said he would see nan and pop later. All he had to do was get through this who school thing, right? 

“I’ll tell you what-” came Gabriel’s initiation, and the boy’s eyes lit up. He knew exactly where that phrase was leading, and his worried trembling seemed instantly replaced with vibrations of excitement.

“Be a good Rose for me and mum today, and we’ll do something extra fun next time you come over to visit, yeah?”

“Really?? Like what?”

There it was. That childish expectancy Gabriel was looking for. The hair around his mouth contorted as his lips pulled into a grand old grin, only growing as he noticed Rose reflect this expression.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? Now, let’s get the ball rolling here, you pick a seat, and i’m gonna go make sure Mum is okay.”

He very quickly added a soft head pat at the slight furrowing of the boy’s brow, simultaneously leading him into the first available bus seat on the left side and urging him to slide all the way towards the metal wall.

“Here. Look out the window. See?”

Rose _did_ see. His mum’s eyes widened as he came into view, and he waved at her.. Then, feeling a bit distant, he pressed his forehead against the glass - only to receive a rapid head nod from the woman. But it was watching as his Pa quickly reappeared at her side that got Rose to pull his face from the window. They were gesturing wildly, waving, saying something he could not hear as the bus uttered a PSSSSTT, and the doors eased shut. His face returned to the glass, neck craning as hard as he could as his left eye received the brunt of the pressure….

as his familiar little neighborhood began to whiz by in a blur of greens and grays and browns and blues...

As his parents got smaller and smaller...until they were gone.

Rose snapped his head back, facing the front of the bus, eyes fluttering erratically as he searched for something...what, he had no clue. And so, with his backpack now pulled around, held close to his chest, he very gradually began to let his legs swing. Let his breath steady once more as the sound of chatter and laughter filled his ears and the slight hum of his bus driver’s radio underplayed it all. 

Miss Fanty? Check.

Mister Nick? Check. 

Rose on a strange trajectory towards a brand new location with his best friends safely in tow, backpack unzipped slightly to let them get some air? Check.

He returned his gaze to the passing scenery, eventually letting his mind wander as he gradually began adjusting to the noise.

Today, for his Mum and Pa and Nan and Pop, _he had quite a bit of big boying to do._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnndd Off he goes!
> 
> I guess now is as good a time as any to point out that i'm a visual storyteller at heart, and that my technical writing style isn't as refined/experienced. So that being said, any criticism is definitely appreciated. In particular when it comes to pacing and the amount of details included in each scene (especially since i'm not illustrating every single scene). Since this is a long story involving Rose's upbringing, there's alot of stuff i'm going to have to par down/cut out so we won't be stuck on one particular phase of his life over the other, but i'm gonna try my best to really put you guys in this boy's shoes throughout all the stages of growing up while making the progression feel natural and relatable. We had our cute little prologue, but here is where it all really starts. This is where the young Rose sets off on his long journey.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and look foward to more! :D


	3. Primary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is WAY longer than the last one but incredibly wholesome if I do say so myself.  
> Please enjoy!!  
> Notes at the end as usual :)

Galar Greens Primary.

A rather plain looking building with its tawny brick walls, dark roofing and modest sized windows - a few of which were struggling to support the aging air units clasped within them. The school was just one small wing of the entire Galar Greens Academy, a sprawling green campus nestled somewhat awkwardly between lazy hills and the perilous presence of Stonkirk’s Mount Bein.

And it was this dichotomy that left young Rose’s mouth agape during the final leg of his journey, the scenery transforming as his bus wheeled onto the long entrance road and circled its way around to the bus ramp at the back of the building. It came to a halt several feet out from the ramp, placing itself in a long row of other buses, each one running parallel to each other and giving Rose the opportunity to take a sneaky peek to the right to see what mysteries these other vehicles contained...and unsurprisingly it was just more kids. Alot more kids. Way more Kids than he’d ever seen at once, he noted, as they began pouring out onto the concrete and filing towards the covered ramp.

“G’morning, G’morning!”

Rose quickly shifted his attention towards the front of the bus where their chubby, red faced driver now stood casually bracing himself against the front two seats. The greeting was met with several replies from the other experienced riders, and Rose followed the sentiment in his own tiny response. 

“First,” The bus driver began again “Welcome to Galar Greens! Though it’s not much of an occasion for a large sum of ye, i’d imagine!”

A few laughs broke out, prompting the boy to take a brief look down the aisle to see what was so funny. Did someone fall? Maybe a kid said something?

“But! And i’ll make this quick, I know yer just clamorin’ to get to class-”

A few groans this time, and Rose noticed he wasn’t the only small person looking around. His toes wiggled with curiosity. After a hearty laugh himself, the bus driver began rounding off his brief speech

“For those of ye who are new to this whole thing, They ca’ me Mr.Charles, and i’ll be yer bus driver for - well - hopefully a long time! That bein’ said, please enjoy yer first day of the new school year, and i’ll see ye this afternoon.” 

He took a step back, slowly lowering into his seat, and Rose flinched a bit as it seemed like the entire bus erupted in movement. Suddenly the aisle was full, prompting him to sink down and pull his bag close. Despite being about two seats from the front, it was evident he wasn’t going to be getting off anytime soon--

“Go on, then..!”

“Mm?”

Stopping just before his row, a particularly tall and dark skinned girl gestured him forward with a hand, smiling down at him with kind, brown eyes. With a few seconds to register, and a gentle zipping of his backpack - making sure his friends didn’t get snagged - Rose turned and took his small hop into the aisle.

He stared up at her for a moment, taking in the sight of this big kid who would go so far as to stop the flow for him, as murmurs increased behind her.

“Alright, Alright, off we go..!” She carefully turned him around by the shoulders and gave a small push forward. Nothing too rough, but just enough to assuage the impatience of the others behind her. And Rose, shifting his backpack and grabbing the straps tightly, took his first steps off of the very thing he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to leave - now smack dab in a wide open area full of new faces and grumbling engines and towering yellows and strange smells and---

“Newcomers from bus fourteen and twenty-eight, listen carefully! If ye’ve got Miss Baxter’s class for homeroom, come line up over here! That’s Miss Baxter!”

“And Mr.Lucas’s homeroom, line yerselves up right over here!”

_ Miss Baxter…? _

Rose twisted and twirled round for the disembodied voice, cocking his head to the side and imagining his ear enlarging as he locked onto it. If only he could take out Mister Nick right now. Hearing  _ was _ his specialty, after all, so he could definitely help during a situation like this. Fortunately a path cleared amongst the much taller students and Rose was able to catch a glimpse of a rather short, stout, white haired lady making the call. Was that Miss Baxter? That named sounded so familiar...as a matter of fact, as he joined the rest of the kids by the woman’s side and they made their way into the significantly colder building, he noted that this hall seemed pretty familiar as well..

But it wasn’t until the woman led them into a smaller room covered from ceiling to floor in colorful banners and posters and one side had this huge black board and another had some brown boards with papers attached and, and--

_ OH YEAH, IT’S THE OBBENOUSE! _

Rose once again found his toes wiggling whenever they had no pressure applied, recalling the night his mum and pop brought him out to a mysterious place called an  _ obbenouse _ to meet  _ someone special _ . And that someone special was standing nervously at the door way, waving down as each child entered the small frame. A rather frail looking young lady with wildly kept orange hair thinly tamed by a bandana bearing the school’s logo, a smattering of freckles and, most importantly…

_ She has green eyes like me..!  _

Rose returned her gesture, eagerly scanning her face before accidentally making eye contact and breaking to focus more on her hand - which led him directly into the room, the bright colors and new sights acting like a magnet...pulling him in with ease. The plentiful round, tan tables filling with tiny hands and scattered bags as the air around them rang with the screeching of chairs. A tag caught Rose’s eye, taped neatly on a table near a set of cubbies. Not one edge wrinkled or lifted, something written in marker across it. Rose traced the tape with his finger and tapped as he read each letter.

“R-O-S-”

“Good morning, lovelies! Ye’ll be finding yer name somewhere at these tables. Please take a seat and hang on tight.Talk to some friends, get comfortable. Once everyone is here, we’ll be started soon enough!”

Came the request from the  _ special person _ , who poked her bright orange head into the classroom to make the announcement before returning to her position guarding the doorway. Rose bounced on his heels and smiled excitedly as he gripped the back of the plastic chair. Ahead of the curb! He was doing great so far.

“R-O-S-E, Rose?”

Hearing his name brought Rose’s attention back to the classroom..more specifically to the boy leaning on the table to his left. A rather round boy with thick, blond, shoulder length hair in distinct locks. His blue eyes were trained on Rose’s nametag as he read each letter with a certain emphasis. Sitting up straight, it became evident that this boy was much larger than Rose - causing him to instinctively lean back a bit. He scanned the boy - who was clearly waiting for a response - trying to figure out what to say...his nametag maybe..?

“Um, Aye! I mean, yes! Um..” He craned his neck, as the boy’s arm was partially blocking the taped slip of paper “G-O-R--”

“GORDON!”

The booming exclamation shook Rose, whose eyes widened and snapped back to this... _ Gordon? _

“Yer gunna be my seat partner?” 

“Uumm, mmhmm..?”

“ACE!” Gordon brought a fist near his face and pumped in anticipation, wildly tossing the seat back and slamming down into it as the corners of Rose’s mouth began to rise. That was definitely one of Scratch The Scorbunny’s catchphrases..!

A few more kids joined them at the table and, as quickly as he’d interrupted the other boy’s thoughts, Gordon was off to introduce himself to more people.

“Mmmm” Rose mused to himself, taking his own seat and placing his backpack between the edge of the table and his chest - perfect head resting position. This Gordon boy bounced round and round like an excited yamper, electrifyingly blond hair giving away his position at every table. It’s a wonder he even had a chance to talk to Rose first. And with that, the boy smiled. Just got here and already making friends? He really  _ was  _ doing great.

\--------------------

“They ca’ me Miss Baxter…!”

That’s what the orange headed lady - oh, his  _ teacher  _ \- told them as she took chalk to the black board behind her to write and verbally spell out each individual letter. Rose’s feet swung to the rhythm of each letter - occasionally switching to the sound of chalk clacking against the surface. Eventually he became confused at which one to follow, and eventually Miss Baxter moved onto the next subject - so he let his eyes travel around the room to get a better look at his surroundings, as vibrant as they were. At one point he spotted another woman in the classroom - the teacher’s help, though he couldn’t remember her name - tap on the shoulder of a black haired boy who was whispering just a bit too loud to his neighbor. The boy sighed and curled away from her touch, dramatically collapsing onto the table, and Rose giggled quietly into the zipper of his still clutched backpack. At another point, Gordon would peek over to see what the boy was guarding so closely, poking curiously at fabric of his backpack as Rose felt his pulse increase ever so slightly. However, his attempts to block the prodding by wrapping his arm more tightly and conveniently around that area were made futile when Miss Baxter asked them all to line up. In his distraction, he couldn’t quite catch the reason. But as he neared the end of the line, clutching the straps of his backpack, he heard the excited murmurs from the rest of his classmates. They were going on a field trip…!

The Primary wing of Galar Greens was modest in size. A handful of classrooms, each with their own bathrooms and storage spaces - as the wing was surprisingly separate from the rest of the school. The tops of cream, brick walls contrasted against the miscellaneous messages and imagery scattered about them. The bottoms of the walls, a cool green straight down to the floor...the spaced out colored tiles of which Rose traced with his eyes, at some point taking longer strides to walk on them and only them. Behind him, Gordon joined in on the action, golden locks bouncing as his strides turned into tiny leaps from one tile to the next. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into Rose’s backpack, and the boy turned to see what was going on that they both realized the few other kids behind him were also now jumping from navy blue square to navy blue square. One of them just so happened to be the black haired boy who was chided earlier. And once he started adding his own “boom!” landing Sound effects to this unspoken game they’d all been playing, the teachers suddenly took notice.

“Mind yer hallway manners and walk straight now, boys..!” spoke the stern looking, older teacher’s aide - earning a slightly disapproving expression from Miss Baxter at her side.

“Ah yes...thank ye, Mrs.Armstrong.” Stiff shouldered and formally stanced, her orange head gave the slightest bow at the interjection of her elder - a woman much better at keeping her class in line than she was at this point. But it  _ was _ the first day of course.

“Not at all. Now, class, let’s be moving.”

And so the rest of the kids did just that. But Rose.

Rose froze in place for just a second too long, finding himself at the back of the line as he came to terms with the  _ dangers of tile hopping _ while the rest of his peers flowed around him like water. He kept his eyes up and moved forward, thinking about how Miss Fanty and Mister Nick must be getting a bit tired of being cramped at this point to distract from the temptations of the floor. He pulled his backpack around the front, wearing it in an admittedly odd fashion. But what was initially a way to make unzipping the bag easier became a permanent position. His friends were once again hugged comfortably to his chest as his class continued on with their journey.

What was promised as a field trip actually ended up being a tour of the most important facilities the young students would come to use. Things like the...lie-bry? A HUGE room filled with the most books Rose had ever seen. They had some VHS tapes too, and he wondered if The Adventures of Scratch and Friends lied within those cassettes. Next was the gym - a wide open area with the shinest wooden floor, where he was just able to catch a glimpse of bigger kids sat in neat rows watching a man gesture with enthusiasm during his welcome back speech. Mrs.Armstrong peeled back into the main hall - as the gym was located at a dead end - to lead them to the place she called a lunch room. However, Miss Baxter’s eyes lingered on the muscular back of the brown haired, tan skinned man.

“Are ye coming? We must stick to the time table, and this tour is running a bit over.”

“Ah-!” freckles disappeared under the slightest flush of red as the woman whipped back to address the question “Actually, give me just the second, would ye?”

Mrs.Armstrong grumbled but gave her coworker the floor as she projected best she could to the children.

“As ye can see, gym isn’t all about running and playing. Sometimes ye’ll have to sit and listen once in a whileee, and…”

Lillian Baxter prayed it wasn’t evident her stall was running out of steam as her already tense shoulders became even moreso, and she could all but hear the mental clock in her aide’s head ticking down with growing impatience…

Luckily for her, the class had a new, charismatic, much more experienced distraction. And she watched as each of their faces lit up, jumped as she felt a firm hand on her shoulder and the voice from behind.

“My!” he turned back to his cooing class who had gathered in the frame of the door for a peek at their new schoolmates. At this point, Mrs.Armstrong was perplexed to say the least, but begrudgingly resolved to letting this whole thing play out.

“I remember when ye all were such wee little things! Boy, were ye much better at listening then--”

A majority of the class switched from cooing to booing with a few faces twisting into laughter as the gym teacher followed suit with his own booming chuckles. He turned to Lillian.

“Finally getting to meet yer class, huh? Ye going to introduce me to yer babies?”

“Nuh uh, i’m not a baby!” Rose heard his black haired classmate pout.

“Ye came all the way out here?? A-And, I was gettin to that, ye know--Ahem. Children, this here is Mister Callahan. I’m not sure of yer schedules yet...b-but he may very well end up being yer gym teacher..!”

“Nice to meetcha! Can’t wait to teacha!” 

Callahan gave his chillest wave and coolest phrase as more than a few audible groans played out behind him.

Rose bounced on his heels, soaking up the energy from the man’s smile alone, and beaming himself once he heard his own teacher’s delighted giggles.

Saw how soft her eyes became when she looked at the man.

Thought lovingly of his mum and pa and what they must be doing right now, and whether or not they missed him because he sure was starting to miss them...

The last stop on this tour was, of course, the cafeteria, where Rose and his classmates were given hard yellow plastic trays topped off with a few staple berries, a sandwich, and some milk. He gobbled it down cheerily, picturing the morsels sliding directly into the mouth of the growling beast in his belly. And before he knew it, there were a myriad of other adults lined up by the walls of the room with signs for them to follow, and intentions of leading them back to their buses. 

It was time to go home, and he had thankfully made it through the day.

“Will bus fourteen please join me at the door? Will bus fourteen PLEASE join me at the door?”

Rose stood quickly, not wanting to miss the call, when he caught a familiar woman perched by the water fountain in his glance towards the entrance.

First thing’s first.

“U-um. Yer eyes are green like mine..!”

Miss Baxter uttered the tiniest “hm?” as her attention shifted downward to the serious faced boy - whose expression morphed into one of glee at the acknowledgement. She braced herself against the wall behind with one hand and slowly lowered to his height, scanning the small features of his face and softly responding

“Well then..! I suppose they are, aren’t they!”

“Mmhmm!” Rose nodded so hard he felt slightly dizzy.

“Let’s be green eye buddies, what do ye say?”

The boy gasped as the orange haired woman held out her hand, pinky stretched and waiting for companionship. He followed suit, a jolt of adrenaline seeming to shoot through him with his pinky as the genesis. Lillian gave their hands a small shake to seal the deal, then stood and pat him on the shoulder.

“Fourteen is yer bus, isn’t it? Ye better get going now, i’ll see ye around!”

With their pinky promise in tow, Rose redirected himself towards the source of the announcement, his littlest finger still tingling with excitement over possibly seeing this kind, green-eyed woman at the store or something again. But before he could fully commit to his route, he had one last stop to make...

“Buh-bye, Gordon..!”

The blonde haired boy whipped around, shocked expression buried behind those incredibly stuffed cheeks, as he took in the sight of his much smaller seat partner from earlier that morning. The two exchanged waves and Rose wondered if he should have said something else, but had no clue what. 

This Gordon boy might have poked at him just a bit too much, but he reminisced fondly of their leaping game in the hall. Of the big room with all the cartoons and books, of the way Miss Baxter and Mister Callahan exchanged looks, as it was his turn to board the bus. 

And this time, the tall steps were just a little bit easier to climb.

\-----------------------------------------------

Just as promised, Miss Renae stood awaiting the boy at the bus stop. Her cocked head and curly black hair just barely obscuring the large cell phone she was embroiled in deep conversation on. But as Rose took a mighty leap off of the bus step and waved Mr.Charles buh-bye, he noticed her shift from holding the phone with her hand to propping it up with her shoulder. It looked quite a bit awkward honestly, but he found it well worth the exchange when she reached out to grab his hand. He took it firmly, swinging as they walked back to the in-house daycare facility he’d been going to for years. Eventually Renae managed to sacrifice the casually free hand in her pocket in order to give her shoulder and neck a break, and in switching positions, she briefly pulled the device away from her ear.

“How was yer day?” she whispered, clearly trying not to interrupt the person on the other end of the line.

Rose had found himself embroiled in kicking pebbles in rhythm with their swinging hands, but when she give his arm a bit of a tug, he realized he was being spoken to.

“It was good! Um, I had alots of fun!”

There they were. The memories were coming back.

“Good” Renae smiled, returning to her conversation for a moment 

“Aye. Yeah? Okay, that’s no problem. I believe--gimme a second--- Rose, how old are ye again?”

“I’m four!” he held up his fingers for the added emphasis. She returned to the conversation at hand

“Yes. Only one.”

_ One? _ No,  **Four** . He tried to hold his fingers up as high as he could so that she would correct this, but things on her end just kept going.

“No, no, we’ve got a couple of threes but only one four at the moment, so ye’ll have to wait until next year for the youngest i’m afraid.”

As they approached their destination, an old, chubby Boltund came bursting from the yard - heavy breaths filling the air around Rose as it nearly overpowered him.

“OLLIE! NO-OLLIE- EHEHEHE” 

A giggle fit commenced as the dog tongue attacked his face without mercy before breaking away and successfully distracting Renae from her call, leaving Rose to wipe his cheeks dry with the wide end of his tie. Ollie was known as the Daycare Dog. Aging but spry, large in size but squishy nonetheless. And Rose loved getting to play with him,  _ even if  _ his breath smelled like years-old kibble sometimes…

Renae and Viola’s house was pretty sizeable, perhaps one of the largest ones on their street - which was in turn just a walk across the four-way intersection that flowed back into the road leading to Rose’s. It was a dull brownish gray on the outside, same as most houses nearby, and segmented into to major parts. Rose led Ollie by the nose with a loose hand for him to sniff as they entered the first side. The left hand side with the main entrance leading into the living room, screams and chatter seeping through the walls beyond that room, and it was here that Renae stopped the boy.

“Shoes--Oh, ye’ve already got it taken care of! Good for ye, Rose.”

He gave a shoulder wiggle and smirk as he neatly placed his shoes down on the plastic door mat beside the other pile of miscellaneous sneakers. That was one of the first rules he learned here at a very young age. But the familiarity of it didn’t stop him from feeling particularly proud of adding to his already large winning streak from today alone. 

Renae sat him down in front of the entertainment stand, went to take his bag but easily gave in once he made it somewhat clear that he wanted to keep it. 

“Want to watch Scratch and Friends? Or Magical Mister Nickit?”

“Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!”

“Okay, okay” She mused as he slammed hands to his thighs in vicious approval. 

After inserting the tape, she sat the ragged box on the arm of one of her plastic-covered couches and made her way to the secondary wing of the house - the daycare center proper. Where the rest of the kids were having lunch. Rose peered around, wondering for a moment why he was suddenly being left alone. But it wasn’t long before his eye caught the abandoned box of Scratch and Friends and he retrieved it, repeatedly opening and closing the case near his face to feel the wind. It was simple, but fun and felt good, so he let Miss Fanty and Mister Nick - who were out of his backpack as soon as Renae left - experience it as well.

This episode was one of the many he’d seen a bunch of times already, so much so that he had most of the script burned into his memory. The cartoon neared its end, with Rose and Mister Nick in mid-applause. And the door to the secondary wing finally burst open after a couple hours. Small children poured forth to terrorize poor old Ollie - who had returned from the off-limits bedrooms down the hall with a solemn slipper in tow- and ran squealing for the plastic shoe mat. Rose gathered his plush friends and stood tall - now a big boy in a sea of his toddler peers.

Renae and Viola’s home, in addition to being pretty sizable, had a thick stone wall surrounding the yard. And although Rose had regrettably missed all of the usual morning songs, he cared much more about having **not** missed “Backgreen Playtime”. That was the most important part of his daycare days, of course. As he had long since configured a neat little hiding spot underneath the largest playset. Sometimes it was a bit jarring, with the thunderous pounding of little feet on plastic up above - especially when someone saw it fit to climb backwards up the slide and the stomps became blended with the argumentative screeches of 2 year olds. But Rose found some semblance of comfort here. Perhaps it was the fact that the pile of stones he had compiled for his Pebble Stew had remained untouched where he buried them last. Or maybe it was how content Miss Fanty and Mister Nick looked, sat on his now flattened backpack as sunlight reflected splotches of reds and blues onto their fabric from the translucent bits of plastic nearby. 

Moving his stick around carefully -as he didn’t want to snap it or else risk having to re-emerge into the toddler wilds to retrieve a sturdier branch - Rose stirred the pebbles, grass and mud in that familiar yellow bucket with the red braided handle. He was lucky to have gotten it first this time, and a part of him wanted to keep it hidden nicely away from the others in his little cave. But that would be selfish...though it was his favorite bucket..

“How does it look?” 

He tipped the bucket to them, and Mister Nick sent a wave of approval.

“Hm? Ye think it needs more berries, Miss Fants? But…”

He thought about the berry source- a great big grey barked tree in the corner of the yard with the remnants of an old treehouse. The ladder had since been decommissioned, sitting in a wooden pile beside the shed they weren’t supposed to go near.

“But I don’t know how to climb trees yet…n-no! If it’s berries ye want, i’ve gotcha covered!”   
Rose flashed the copperajah plush a thumbs up, mimicking the catchprase and actions of Gena the Grookey from the episode he’d just watched. Now, if only he could channel her climbing skills….

He took a deep breath. Braced himself to be bombarded by at least two or three little people.

_ Where were ye, Rose?? _

_ Why did ye come from there, Rose?? _

_ Tag yer it, Rose!! _

Actually that last one wasn’t too bad. He did have longer legs after all, so he could just tag someone else very quickly, and continue on his quest….

But to his surprise he emerged to an empty yard and an orange sky. How long was he under there for? Did everyone else already get picked up by their parents..?

Was he so well hidden that they forgot him?? 

His tiny pulse quickened as he peered atop the playset, his heart stopping altogether when a large, gentle hand gave his shoulder a pat and a shadow eclipsed him from behind.

“Those ears of yers are gettin good. Ye came out before I even made it over..!”

The voice came from a thick hipped, light skinned woman with dirty blonde hair and a loose fitting paisley shirt. The voice came from Miss Viola. And Rose sighed to himself before catching a glimpse of a ragged green car situated in their driveway.

“POP!!!”

“Aye, that’s what i’d come to tell ye. And not just yer pop either.”

Not just pop? What did she mean by that?   
He quickly scuttled back under the playset, scooping up his friends and carefully putting them back in his bag with several small  _ sorries _ . The boy paused mid zip. 

_ What about the Pebble Stew? _

If he just left it like this, it would burn and be no good when he returned. 

So he had no choice but to dump it all out, smoothing the mud back into place best he could. He’d gather new stones and weeds and everything he needed next time.

Approaching the car, a bubbling Rose was met with the dear face of his Granpop, only half visible behind the squirming child in Renae’s arms as she spoke her usual chat with him through his window. What was significantly less familiar, however, was the woman sitting stiffly in the passenger seat as he crawled into the back seat.

“NAN! Yer here too??”

“Aye. Watch yer knees, Rose.”   
“Oh, right!”

Rose pulled his legs from under him, letting them dangle over the car mat as he bounced on his butt a few times to make sure his back was flush to the seat before commencing his regular struggle with the seatbelt. As his frowned, trying to figure out where it was twisted, Dahlia gave him a slight, tired smile. She shifted her attention back to the window, waving silently when prompted by her husband, and really taking in the image of Rose’s daycare providers.

She had heard from Camellia and Roald that the facility was run by two women, but this was her first time meeting them in person. They stood awfully close to one another... baby in tow as the sunset burned behind them. She noted one - Viola, was it? - had quite short hair, while the other’s voluminous black curls were strikingly feminine. Roald closed the conversation with an “I’ll be seein ye” as Rose finally figured out his seatbelt, and she shot a forced smile their way.

But as they backed out of the driveway, she finally stirred.

“--And yer sure they aren’t just a bit funny?” 

A question directed at Pop, but her grandson replied instead

“They are!” 

His head popped through the two front seats, and Dahlia whipped around, a small snicker threatening to escape

“Yer just a wee thing, ye’ve no idea what i’m talkin about. And  _ sit back _ , it’s dangerous..!”

“Sorry!” He returned to the back seat, continuing 

“Um, One time Miss Viola was getting cups under the sink, a-and she bumped her head and went BOOF we all laughed.”

The sentence ended with a small chortle, as if this boy was reliving the moment himself.

Dahlia’s eyes widened, as she stared at Roald in disbelief. But all it took was a glimpse of him concealing his own laughter behind that shaky fist for the dam to break. And she hollered, shoulders bouncing in that lively manner that Rose loved to see. With a twinkle in his eyes, he added another thing to his long list of big boy moments today and sat back with resolve. 

He was right. He knew it was funny.

Their house, of course, was just down the way from his daycare. And as that jingle of keys played out in Rose’s ears, he prepared himself for any changes to his regular routine. First, shoes off. Then, he put his bookbag in his room - somewhat excitedly inching the door open, hoping his mum would be there waiting. She wasn’t. Although he was used to her working late, so it was okay. In fact, it seemed the only thing that had really changed today outside of his nan coming to pick him up too was the school- oh,  _ obbenouse  _ \- he’d gone to in the morning.

His grandparents still disappeared into their room one at a time as their clothes changed, sitting him in front of the big tube television to soak up whatever kids programs were on at the moment. Keeping him nicely out of the way while they eventually made idle chatter over dinner preparations. They still called him into a welcoming and good-smelling kitchen to fill his belly - correcting his table manners as he randomly thought of different parts of his day to bring up.

“No bletherin with yer mouth full, you know that.”

Roald poked one of his stuffed cheeks, watching as his grandson’s eyes narrowed mischeviously and he smiled with a bit of gum. 

“Yer a silly boy, Rose.” 

Dahlia added, hmphing as she lifted a steaming potato.

But outside of that, their dinners were as quiet as usual. 

Bathtime embraced Rose with open arms that night, the boy having sweat a bit more than usual today from his bouts of nervousness. 

“H-hold on! I’m pullin ye back to the island!” 

One hand on the floating plastic book he called an island, and another seizing a loofah, he stretched as much as he could to rein his rubber cramorant back in from the other side of the tub. The bird toy bobbed thankfully as he pet it gently.

“We almost lost ye! Here, sit tight.”

The curious birdie always found its way out of his grasp, so Rose did what was best and retired him on the porcelain ledge where his mum’s bar of soap sat. 

His head shot up, murmurs growing through the bathroom walls. Some louder than others, and then they suddenly stopped - topped off by what sounded like a cabinet slamming. 

He got back to splashing without a care in the world. He had a storyline to finish.

See, all of the rubbies - his rubber, floating toys, were on a pilgrimage of sorts. But they were in the preparation stage right now, steeling themselves for the inevitable act of navigating the drain...something not even Rose himself, as their leader, was ready for. He sat squeezed into one end of the tub, knees barely rising above the soapy water, toes curled as not to get swallowed whole.

That’s when the door swung open, and he knew playtime was over.

“Alrighty, i’m back. Hope ye washed yerself well enough without me? Used plenty of soap and water?” 

Roald grabbed a towel from the sink cabinet, sitting it on the toilet lid.

“I did, just like a big boy!”

“Hahaha, that’s great, m’boy!”

Next came lifting him out from the tub, Rose reaching up for his brief ride. Then the best part, patting him down, wrapping him up in the towel and pulling each end around until he was twirling in place. Roald’s eyes widened as he looked at the boy’s fingertips

“Uh oh. Ye’ve been in there so long, yer startin’ to wrinkle up.”

And, without missing a beat, Rose turned to his pop

“Just like you, pop!”

_ What a delightful response, ye wee lil rascal. _

That’s all he could manage to think in that moment, wrapping Rose up completely and leading him into the hall. It was bed time for said rascal.

“Hope ye drained and cleaned out the tub?” 

The voice, strict in tone, came from the kitchen. With Dahila not even peering back from her position washing the dishes.

“Aye. I’ll get it when i’m done puttin Rose to bed.”

“Mmmm.”

Roald let out a heavy exhale, turning back to Rose.

“Hang tight in yer room for me, will ye? Let pop go take care of somethin real quick.”

“Can I help!?”

“Hah! Ye don’t know how to clean, Rose. But I appreciate yer offer. Now go wait for me, alright?”

Rose poked out his bottom lip as his pop disappeared into the bathroom. Sure he didn’t know the first thing about cleaning, but he could learn right? Regardless, waiting in the room for pop was his job right now.

Luckily it didn’t take too long, he noted as he watched his nan re-clean the same couple of plates seven or so times. And before he knew it, he was being very quickly dressed in his striped jammies and tucked in - his pop waving him goodnight as he left the door to the dark room in a cracked state. Rose threw the patchwork covers off of his lower half, freed legs swinging wildly between the air and mattress as his head vibrated - abuzz with thoughts of the day. So many fun new people and experiences mixed with already familiar people and experiences. It was a wonder which ones were going to last...and with that thought, he felt his legs grow heavy.

He turned over on his side, curled up and shut his eyes - the notions still ticking away behind those lids. 

\-----------------------------------------

“I’m home..!”

It was a bit flatter than usual, despite her trying to inject a bit of liveliness to towards the end. But nobody was there to greet Camellia - all decked to the nines in her bright red waitress uniform - and it’s not like that was unfamiliar, but…

“I’ll just. Sit this here. Or maybe in the fridge.”

She stood in the kitchen, crumb cake in hand, pivoting between the two locations. If she sat it on the table, it would be too warm. If she put it in the fridge, the crumbs might be too hard. She eventually settled with popping it on top of the microwave and receiving whatever complaints came her way at a later date. She was too tired to deal with this shit right now, anyway.

“Ah, well, can’t say it ain’t a blessing…” 

The muffled sound of 10pm game shows and occasional laughter creeping down the hall let her know that her parents were home - they just hadn’t heard her enter. And she wasn’t clamoring to correct that, either. What she  _ was _ clamoring for was….

“R-Rose??” 

Despite trying for a whisper, the sight of her child still up this late on a school night - and rolling across the bed no less - forced just a few more decibels from her throat

“..mum..!” 

He shot up, hair an absolute mess. 

“I, um, i’m not sleepy..!”

“Yeah..! I can see that.” 

**Ohhh the woes of a sugary breakfast.**

She pulled another blanket from the back of her old rocking chair and placed it on the bed, sitting on that to avoid getting secondhand diner grease on her recently washed comforter.

He was in rather high spirits, and she’d be lying if she said that didn’t help scrub her mind clean of those rather rude men who saw it fit to come for a grand old breakfast 30 minutes before closing. 

“So, how was yer first day….?” 

Her words petered out as Rose slowly shifted upward, mouth spreading wide. 

The flood gates were opened. And she was not prepared to swim.

“I saw alot of big kids, and one of them helped me off the bus!”

“Oh? That’s great-”   
“And there was this room with a buncha books and movies, and I saw this boy who did the thing that scratch does--but I forgot his name, um, I think it was, uhhhhh…”

“Yeah? A big room with books, huh? Didn’t know ye guys were going to the library on the first day.”

“Mmhmm! A lie-bery, and then we saw a gym and more big kids and the teacher was really cool and--”

He gasped, as if something had come to him. Scooching closer and propping himself up on her thigh, he continued

“--And ye didn’t tell me school was the  _ obbenouse _ !”

Camellia turned, moving her left hand from under him and leaning back on the bed slightly

“The Open House?”

“Yeah! The obbenouse that we went to with pop!”

“Eheheheh”

Camellia couldn’t help but turn, giggling into her hand. She stood and straightened out the extra blanket, spreading it across the entire width of the bed before collapsing on her back.

“Oh yeahh...well, the Open House is meant for ye to see school, meet yer teachers n’ all that beforehand, y’know?”

She found her long, tired glance at the ceiling interrupted by the soft squeaking of the mattress as Rose laid on his back next to her. Feet swinging off the side of the bed.

“Miss Baxter is nice!”

He grinned, head turning to look at her the same time she peered over at him. And they sat for a moment, Rose’s legs still swinging. Camellia basking in that energy for just a little while longer.

Before time marched on as it usually did.

“Alrighty, let’s get ye into bed. Ye’ve got to get up for school tomorrow.” 

Her slow rise was mimicked in faster fashion by her tiny son.

“I-i’m going back tomorrow??”

Once again the realization that her son had a very rocky concept of continuity came crashing upon her, and she instantly softened like butter, cackling off to the side.

“Aye, yer going back, tomorrow…!”

_ And the day after that. _

_ And the day after that. _

_ And the day after that. _

Her chest heaved in exhaustion, an overwhelming wave of gratefulness washing over her as she considered the fact that she’d ended that cycle long ago. 

But that Rose? He was beaming. And he needed to get to sleep already if he was going to keep that same energy.

“It’s beddy-bye time with ye”

Rose threw his arms over her shoulders as she moved him closer to his side, tucking him back under the covers before grabbing pajamas out of the drawer.

“M-mum, wait!”

Camellia paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Aye?”

“Goodnighhttt”

And like that, Camellia’s shoulders dropped. A rare sight this was, Rose being up late enough after her shift for them to exchange these precious lines. So she said what she meant, and she meant what she said.

_ “Goodnight, Rose. I love ye.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh BOY is this a long chapter??? But GOD it's just...
> 
> It all just turned out so sweet ;;u;;
> 
> A few of these early chapters have to act as initial establishment not just for the characters, but for the island of Stonkirk as a whole, so i'm trying to keep things as entertaining as possible in the meantime...And for me, there's nothing more strangely entertaining than fully embracing the absurdist reality of a small child. If you can't tell, I had a LOT of fun writing Rose in this chapter. I think i'm really starting to get a grasp on the trajectory of his character at this age, and it's making me reminisce on my own imaginative childhood. But this IS, at the end of the day, a character study OvO So i'm proud of myself for getting quite a few hints in at certain traits/neuroses that he develops down the line....  
> Bonus points if you can point out the others outside of anxiety!
> 
> That's it for now. I'm really glad to have gotten this chapter up, as I feel like every new addition to this story bears the excitement of the first step all over again. But it's getting alot easier to write, alot easier to put myself in Rose's shoes, and alot more interesting the sorts of changes that develop as I type out each word...


	4. Mum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first in a series of chapters where I work on establishing Rose's family members and their individual relationships with him, because in order for this character piece to explore Rose's anxieties, you've got to understand where they may have come from...  
> That being said, here we have Camellia's chapter! More notes at the end :) 
> 
> ENJOY

_ Ziii~iiip _

Rose fidgeted a bit, flapping his arms in the big puffy jacket. Struggling to snag his backpack on something as the straps slid down the slippery material.

“And there ye have it. Ready?”

“Mmmhmmm-ahhhh…” 

Camellia Baird smiled from ear to ear as he let out a vast yawn, tiny hand doing very little to cover his widening mouth. And with a few wipes of that morning crust from his eyes, she led him by the hand to the vehicle he’d since become familiar with. Watched as he gripped the railing with resolve and hoisted himself up onto the bus steps. Sighed in relief as, right before Charles shot her a wave and pulled off, she watched another child around Rose’s age welcome him into their seat.

But seeing that bit of yellow disappearing off into the hills of green hadn’t gotten any easier in the couple months since Rose’s first day, to her surprise. She lingered for the tiniest bit, the few parents who joined her each morning now flowing back towards their neighborhoods in regular fashion. And finally, with a chill embrace from the pre-winter air, Camellia made for home herself.

12-3, + closing shift 5-10

That’s what the flowery script in her cheaply bound, plastic covered planner read for each day of the week just short of the weekends. And underneath today’s scribble...

_ ‘Ah, right, I need to stop to the store. But…’ _ Camellia placed her iron down carefully on the rocking chair next to her, staring deeply into the red and white diner uniform. 

_ ‘Should I head out early, or do it on my break between shifts. Or ask mum to--’ _

No. Not that last one. 

She sat fully upright, fists gripping at the skirt laid out before her as she pondered why that option would even cross her mind to begin with.

_ ‘Shit, Camellia ye’ve wrinkled it all over again ye bampot!” _

Once the painfully mundane task of ironing had been completed with some level of competency - as in several rounds of making absolute sure all disturbances in the fabric were put to pasture - the woman returned to the kitchen for the first time since having breakfast with her son...but much to her dismay she was not, infact, alone. And as Dahlia sat quietly perched in her usual spot with what appeared to be a newly purchased workbook, Camellia avoided her gaze at every possible opportunity.

_ ‘If I knew she was gonna be up--ahhh, I KNEW I should’ve just cleaned those dishes earlier--’ _

But she and Rose had eaten a bit late and would surely have missed the bus. And that’s only because the boy had become much harder to wake up in the mornings. Gone was that first day excitement, replaced instead by the mumbles of a 4 year old who’d stayed up way too late waiting for his mum each night. So maybe the problem was putting him to bed on time...but who was going to enforce that, and what right did they have when all the boy wanted to do was see the mother he hadn’t seen since early morn. Perhaps she should look into a schedule change...be there for her son for once--

“Good morning.”

It’s surprisingly warm in tone, Camellia notes as the greeting slips from her throat. A greeting she had no intention of uttering. But the mounting pressures from some unseen stress somehow created this damned lapse in judgement that led to her  _ actually _ entertaining her mother’s existence on a morning where she clearly hadn’t done what she was supposed to.

And now she waited.

For the response.

For the verbal execution.

“Mornin’”

And like that, the older woman settled back into stiff-lipped silence. Marking away at the booklet in front of her. 

Camellia felt a lump...somewhere. Her chest? Her throat? She slipped on her gloves, seized the rag and began scrubbing whatever glass she picked up first at an accelerated pace.

And yet, Dahlia sat there quite  _ peacefully _ . Well, as peacefully as things could be around the woman. For way longer than usual, Camellia noted keely under a haze of mounting assumptions. Picking up the pace in an effort to miss whatever bomb was being dropped in 3….2...1…

“Soo.”

Yup. There it was. The older woman not even looking up from her crossword puzzle, as was usual for her when beginning certain  _ addresses _ ...

“I’ve not seen ‘em around as of late... He still in the picture?”

Camellia’s shoulders dropped, and she would have dropped the glass if the sound of it crashing down wouldn’t have created more problems. So she gently placed it to the side.

“Aye--I mean, Yes. Yes he is.”

“Ah, I see...Well, the papers’ sayin’ protesters are apt to pick up again. Takin it to the mines directly this time.”

**This again.**

“Ye might want to keep an eye on the man is all i’m sayin. Watch the he doesn’t flit off somewhere less...controversial.”

Camellia inhaled a shaky breath, fully aware that if the  _ Mining institution _ , or  _ business _ , or  _ whatever _ wanted to pull their forces out of Stonkirk’s Mount Bein then Gabriel may very well be forced back to the mainland…

“Aye well, I highly doubt that would happen. We  _ do _ have a child.” She protested, lying through her teeth

“Ye know that doesn’t matter. To  _ men like them. _ I’m just looking out for Rose and ye.”

Dahlia flipped the page, eyeing the next crossword puzzle as she continued.

“They’ve got not a care for uprooting the very nature of this island, disturbing the sacred balance.  _ What consequence is leaving a child they barely see _ .”

“ **OKAY** .”

Camellia’s chest tightened, heart racing as a painful silence followed her echoing response. She stripped her dishwashing gloves, then wiped down the sink. Twisting on her heel, she headed down the hall.

“Where’re ye going?” 

“To get ready for work. I’m leaving a bit early today.”

  
  
  
  
  


“She really said that??”

“Aye.”

“In that exact manner.”

“Aye…”

Feyrah sat back from the porcelain counter, scanning Camellia’s face for some hint of a joke in the mirror reflection before them. Meanwhile, Phoebe propped herself against the woman, arm resting on Camellia’s upper back as she hunched over the surface in search of her good foundation. Straightening up and disturbing her coworker’s position, she squinted at her own light skinned face in the mirror, aiming to blotch out any imperfections. Every now and then her eyes caught on Feyrah, who had taken to leaning against the bathroom wall with arms crossed. A rather tall, dark skinned woman with striking violet eyes and even darker navy hair that matched her complexion perfectly. And Phoebe? Just the right amount of fairness to her skin to offset that dirty blonde hair all neatly tied up in a ponytail.

Camellia made some last minute adjustments to certain areas where the foundation seemed a bit too...foundation-y, and took to sprucing up her hair for the day. Making sure, in all her eagerness to quickly tie up the brown curly mass into something workable, to leave just a lock or two at the front.  _ For extra seasoning _ , as Phoebe had put it in the past. Noting to herself the amount of people she’d overheard referring to Camellia as  **the real meal** . 

“That mum of yers is a right trip.” Feyrah picked things back up right where they’d left off, returning to the mirror to fix her flipped collar. 

“But she tells it like it is. That’s for sure. Respectable, that.”

“Not to come off wrong but, It’s a bit mean, i’nt it though?” 

“Y’know, Phee...that’s just the way it is, im afraid.” 

With that, Camellia grabbed the plastic grocery bag from the counter, checking to make sure the contents hadn’t had any sort of strange transformation in the mere 15 to 20 minutes the women took getting ready for their shifts in the bathroom’s blitzing heat. 

“Enough about mum, though. Do ye think I can keep these in the fridge in the back?”

“Hm. Depends on what’s in there, and who’s on shift duty...” 

Phoebe stepped aside so Feyrah could peel back the layers of the plastic bag, Camellia feeling that strange acceleration in her chest as the woman drew closer. Dark locks obscuring her eyes perfectly as she bent over, focused on what was before her. And as she pulled back up, the returned gaze was so strong that Camellia had to avert her own. It’s no wonder this woman had so many table requests at their diner. Who wouldn’t want to be served such an intense look while placing their order.

“Sandwiches…?” 

“OH!!” Phoebe’s wave of excitement shook Feyrah from her confused state, as the blonde woman uttered her patented high pitched gasp that quite frankly sounded a little more painful each time. 

“Ye got the ‘wiches!” 

“Aye. I got the ‘wiches.”

Ah yes.  **The ‘Wiches** . An item she’d been meaning to grab for quite a while now, but wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to follow through on. In short, they were a variety of tiny deli-made sandwiches for Rose’s lunches during the week. But in reality, they were just another way for her to circumvent being a real mother and packing her son the homemade lunch he so cutely asked for. 

_ “Mum, can ye make me some sammiches like Cory’s mum makes?”  _

Came the question just before bed one night a whole month or so ago. And she could still remember the dull chest pain of realizing she may never be home in time, or have enough energy after work to make a lunch he might be proud of. So Phoebe suggested buying deli-made sandwiches and repackaging them in homestyle baggies…

“I need to talk to Heather about my shifts…”

“....?”

The woman watched as her coworkers paused for a moment. Almost as if they had been hit with some sort of freeze gun. And she felt her cheeks getting hot at how random that comment must’ve sounded, so she continued.

“It’s just that. Rose waits up for me at nights, and it’s gettin hard to wake the lad up for school. Plus, i’d be able to pack em’ lunch if I just had a few more hours shaved off each closing shift...”

Feyrah and Phoebe shot glances at one another from the corners of their eyes, their heads barely even moving in the action. A look that Camellia could most certainly pick up on at this point. A look that read

_ ‘Y’know Heather’s not gonna let ye do that.’ _

Of the two, Phoebe spoke up first.

“Speakin of Rose, yknow, ye’ve  **got** to fill us in on The Primary Saga...!”

And just like that. Shift talk could go to hell.

Because it was  _ go time _ . And go time saw Camellia’s posture straightening from her slight slump, her heavily lidded, silver eyes twinkling in preparation, her breath hastening in recollection. 

And it was exactly what Phoebe wanted to see, the blonde woman doing everything not to let a giggle escape from her throat at how readily her coworker lit up at the prospect of  _ sharing her son’s late night tales with the class. _

“WELL…” Camellia began. A narrative that, as their conversations usually had, lasted quite a bit of the night in off and on spurts.

  
  
  


_ Plink _

“So, ye want to hear this joke now before I head out to the floor again?” Camellia leaned over, trying her best to split vision between Phoebe at the register and the glass of juice being filled for table six.

“Oh! Aye, aye, go on then i’m all ears.--oh shit hold on” 

A misclick. Followed by a correction of price. Her pale face turned red. Hopefully Heather didn’t see that.

“Okay okay, why did the torchic cross the road?” 

A quick glance over. A small jump as the juice overflowed onto her hand. Camellia grabbed the rag used to clean the machine nearby. Phoebe pretended to punch away at more buttons

“Hmm? Enlighten me, Cammy.”

“To get to the other side!”

“Ohoho!” Phoebe had a deceptively cartoonish laugh. If they weren’t so close, Camellia would have assumed a bit of insincerity. As a matter of fact, she distinctly remembered a period where she did just that...but that was beside the point. She bathed in what she now knew was the genuine reaction of her coworker while filling her last glass, waiting for the inevitable follow up in commentary before they were torn apart by duties yet again.

“That’s just precious!” Phoebe snorted, switching from pressing meaningless buttons on the console to pretending to test pens on blank receipt paper. For the customers, of course.

“Isn’t it?” 

“Aye Aye Aye Aye, Though i’ve got to admit, i’m not sure what a torchic even is…?”

“Oh neither am I, and frankly i’m sure Rose is none the wiser but he sure got a kick out of it.”

Camellia smiled down at the crashing of juice onto the now bobbing ice cubes, reminded of how her son fell completely out in laughter at the punch line - barely able to even get it out through giggles. She wasn’t sure what the sensation was, or why that particularly reminded her of such. Perhaps it was the freeform, wild nature of it all. 

“Oh, Heather’s comin, so I need to get this check back to the boys but, who was it this time?”

“Hm?”

“The joke, Cammy? ‘Less Rose came up with it himself?” 

Phoebe bumped shoulders with Camellia, raising the receipt to give the illusion of questions - well, relevant questions - being asked.

“Ohhh, ye know who it was.”

That black haired boy Colin. Always the jokester, according to Rose. The two women exchanged knowing glances as they parted ways...returning to the wildlands known as The Floor.

  
  
  
  


_ Ding dong ding dong~ _

The high pitched half rang first. All waitress heads in the nearest vicinity raised.

_ Ding dong ding dong~ _

As the door chime reached its lower pitched end, a group of gruff individuals pooled around the hostess podium. Just a few, no more than 4 or 5, all dressed in reflective gear and coated in dirt from the neck down. Camellia’s shoulders rose with the slight chortle she uttered.

_ ‘They cleaned their faces off to come in, today, it seems..’ _

But with a quick twist of the heel, she headed for the broom in the back. A destination rendered unreachable with a demanding pat on the back from none other than Heather.

“Mainlanders are here, and it’s yer turn. Seat em’ for us, would ye?”

“O-oh..is it?”

Camellia turned around slowly with all the resolve of a child, knowing damn well whose turn it actually was, but shrinking so much into herself that whatever argument she might have made would not have mattered at all.

“I’ve got it!” Feyrah announced, mere feet from the podium.

Heather sighed, and Camellia exhaled. 

This particular group of miners had always been a bit... _ difficult _ . But Feyrah was more than capable of handling them.

And, honestly with her looks and seeming inability to buckle under pressure, they were probably counting their lucky stars at the moment.

  
  
  
  


Clicklink~

Finally, as the door to the diner locked and the neon sign buzzed off, the staff exhaled. Busy shuffling ensued in all areas of the restaurant, from cooks taking out grease to waitresses cleaning up the remainder of their tables. Camellia stacked whatever menus Sharron or Grace brought her way, bending down to place them neatly into the cubby at the backside of the podium. When she resurfaced, she found a sweeping Feyrah had paused to eye her with curiosity. 

“Lil Rose’s first holiday is comin up, isn’t it? He excited for the break?”

“I don’t think he even knows it’s comin up” 

Camellia responded with a slight chuckle, straightening out the pens in front of her.

“What’s he up to? Gonna let em go over a friend’s? What’s that boy’s name...Gordon?”

“Oh noo noo, it’s too early for that. Besides, he’ll be aged out of daycare come summer so i’d rather get as much time there for him as possible.”   
Admittedly, this also had a little to do with getting her money’s worth, and Feyrah nodded in understanding.

“So, did ye ever get that update on the Jamia thing?”

“Hmm…” Camellia sorted through her mental collection of Rose stories for any mentions of his classmate Jamia “Oh, those dolls of hers?”

“Mmhm. Yer Rose mention getting the gold yet?”

“That’s riiighht!” Phoebe intervened, abandoning the table she was only halfway through wiping to inconspicuously arrange chairs closer to the two “Jamia’s the one who wouldn’t let Rose see her wee fancy dollies!”   
“Right. He ever get to see them? Or are ye gonna leave me hanging on such an intense plot thread?”

Feyrah’s shoulders shook with laughter as she finished the sentence, accented by particles of dust and other such things at the base of her broom being swept off with the wind from the sudden movement. But Camellia met her enthusiasm with a bit of a poked out lip and obvious rumination

“Well...I actually brought that up to Pop a while back..”   
“Gabriel, or?”

“No, my pop. Roald. He let Rose know very calmly that dolls are for girls, not boys. And he’s not brought it up since.”

Feyrah’s casual lean against one of the booths turned into a stiff stance as Phoebe interjected

“Aye, that’s a way of doin it! Best to get a man t’ handle situations like that before the lads at school get a chance to.”

“Aye..” Camellia took to twirling her free lock of hair, looking off to any side without distractions as she felt her body close up again.   
“ **He’s four--** .” 

It was a rather deep, and stern retort from Feyrah, her brow furrowed and intense violet gaze meeting Camellia’s directly. Once she’d got the woman’s attention, she softened quite a bit.

“--He’s but a babe in primary school, yeah? Plus dolls are just toys, and at the end of the day children will go after whatever toy they can get their hands on.”

“That’s very true, and so so cute!” Phoebe chimed in.

“Aye, you’re right, Fey.” Camellia tacked on at the last minute, reaching back under the podium and reshuffling the already shuffled menus without realizing.

It wasn’t Rose playing with dolls that was the problem. No. It was  _ what people would think _ of Rose, a young boy, playing with dolls that burrowed under her skin perhaps more than it should. What they would think of  _ her _ for letting him play with them. The feelings tangled like fishing wire at the back of her throat. But with a comforting glance and pat on the shoulder from Feyrah, Camellia managed to swallow the lump. 

She had no clue what she would do if her precious baby became a victim of bullying. But, like Feyrah said, he was four. So maybe she was thinking too far ahead, as usual.

  
  
  
  


“I’m back~!” 

Camellia called out into what she assumed was an empty living area, riding high on sheer anticipation for the next tale from her son. Because in all honesty, that had been the only thing keeping her sane on her nightly bus rides back lately.

But upon entering the kitchen, she found a silent Roald restocking the fridge with waterbottles.

“Nice t’have ye back. Have a good night?” 

The man, once noticing his daughter, sat aside the remaining bottles and closed the fridge door - making sure not to waste any chill while the conversation ensued. And Camellia felt her chest lighten just a bit, remembering her days as a school girl coming home to such a greeting. Why she remembered back that far, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was all the talk of Rose.

“Had a good night. No stragglers this shift, thankfully, so we closed on time.”

“That’s wonderful! Seems like yer in high spirits for sure.”

“Aye, bout ready to crawl into bed still, though. Funny how that works.”

The two of them shared a genuinely warm laugh, a bit hushed to avoid attracting attention from the back rooms of the house.

Trailing her eyes from her now re-stocking father over to the dining table, she noticed Rose’s workbook and pencil case still present at the edge. And before she had the chance to ask, Roald broke their brief stint of silence

“He’s in a bit of a way tonight.”

“A bit of a way?”

“Ayeee. Not sure what’s come over the boy but,” he traveled to the trash can, tossing away the excess plastic “He was particularly ornery tonight, didn’t want to practice his P words or any of the rest of his homework.”

“Rose was??”

“Mm. And ye know how...nan can be after a hard day of work..Had to send the lad to bed early, i’m afraid.”

Camellia felt a familiar irritation building up in her fingertips, something she was used to exercising through rhythmic strumming on a nearby surface. One glance down the hall, then a glance at back in her father’s direction.

“I’ll talk to ‘em, then.”

  
  
  


The room was dark. As expected. Rose was sleep. Slightly less expected, but given the situation--

Except...he wasn’t.

Back turned to the door, with slightly trembling shoulders at his mum’s entrance into the room giving away his game of pretend, Rose laid curled tightly into his corner of the bed. He said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge her entry. So Camellia proceeded with her nightly routine as normal, brain overclocking itself for something,  _ anything _ to say in this moment.

Then she heard a sniff.

“Rose?”

“.....”   
Folding her pajamas for easy transport, yet receiving no response, she sat the clothing down and placed her rocking chair blanket over the comforter. Crawling gently onto the bed, she peered over the boy’s shoulder slightly, but not enough to invade his personal space. After all, she couldn’t be too sure what side of ornery her pop was referring too. Though none of it seemed to fit her son, if she was honest. She prodded some more in her motherly tone

“Rose..something wrong?”

_ ‘Pop said you didn’t do yer homework.’ _ a sentiment best left to the woman’s thoughts. That was certainly not what she’d want to hear in his position. Certainly not what she wanted to hear all those times she was chided back in her youth, rather.

It seemed like the gentle coaxing got somewhere, however, as he stirred just a bit. Turning towards her slightly, and in the most heartbreakingly fragile voice she’d ever heard from him, he laid himself bare

**“Mum….is Rose a girl name..?”**

One could have, as the old folks say, heard a durant piss in the shadows once the question dropped. A sudden heaviness settling over Camellia as her mind flew into a tizzy.

_ ‘He’s being teased.’ _

_ ‘No, maybe it’s just a question’ _

_ ‘But why is he so upset’ _

_ ‘Who put this into his head’ _

_ ‘Why this early’ _

_ ‘Why him’ _

_ ‘Why did I even--’ _

She finally swallowed after a solid few seconds, one thought prevailing above all else

_ ‘Camellia, quit yer fashin’ and be there for yer son.’ _

“Rose…” her voice came out saccharine as could be, as she laid down beside him

“No, it’s not.”

_ ‘Yer lying’ _

“In fact, Rose is a beautiful name for a beautiful boy.”

_ ‘Good sentiment Camellia, but an excuse is still an excuse’ _

Rose’s eyes widened as he took another sniffle, sitting up a little more.

“B-boot, um-”   
“Beautiful...Be-”

“Be…”   
“-you”

“You..tiful..beautiful..?”

“Aye…” With each sounded out syllable, Camellia felt her heart still, taking in the image of those verdant eyes darting around in the darkness, processing what his mum had said. Against her better judgement, she continued.

“Who told ye Rose was a girl’s name?”

“Um…”

Rose returned to his tightly curled position, avoiding his mum’s gaze as he burrowed into the sheets.

“...I wanted to play with the boys and, um, they say I can’t because Rose is a girl name and..”

The next part seemed hardest to utter for him

“And they say I can’t have it…”

They said he can’t have it, huh? The words rattled around as a wave of realization washed over Camellia...along with, admittedly, a wave of relief. Something about that reminded her that they really were just four year olds. And so she flopped over on her back, hoping to prompt Rose into doing the same. That was the way they often shared stories, after all.

“Ye know...a Rose is a flower.”

“A flower..? Really?”

Not quite on his back, but he was quite a bit more alert at the sudden fact drop.

“Mmhmm. Camellia’s a flower too.”

“That’s  _ yer _ name, mum..!”

“Aye. And so is Dahlia.”

“Nan too??”

“That’s right. We’re all named after flowers in this family.”

At this point, Rose was propped solidly on his elbows, hands progressively squishing his face more as they sunk into the pillow. He followed up, voice rising back to his usual chipper tone, with

“Pop too?”

“No, no, Roald’s not a flower.”

“Hmm...Pa? Auntie Azie? Uncle Basil?”

Oh right. Her siblings.

“Hahaha, Gabriel isn’t, no. It’s only--”

Camellia paused, debating whether it was worth explaining who and what constituted as  _ apart of this family _ . She decided against it

“Auntie Azie is the Azalea flower. And Uncle Basil is...well..a Basil?”

To be fair, she wasn’t quite sure what happened with her older brother’s namesake. But it also didn’t really matter right now, as Rose had finally taken to laying on his back. 

And Camellia smiled heartily, having completed her motherly duty in consoling her son. But there was one last thing on her mind.

“Rose?”

“Hm?”

“Do ye...like yer name?”

Tiny hands gripped the sheets before him as he shot his mum a coy smile.

“Mmhmm..”

“Don’t want to change it, do ye?”

He shook his head.

“Nooo... It’s my name. I like it.”

And, ultimately, isn’t that all that matters? 

She reached across and pulled the sheets over him, tucking him in properly. And as he adjusted his pillow, knuckles bared to the cool night air, she took his small hand and kissed each digit. Then took the other and kissed those as well, reflecting on her father’s comment about how her mother got when she had a hard day at work - which usually involved finger tapping for disobedient behavior.

“All better?” She smiled down at him.

“All better.” He smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that for now! For reference, because this will come up later but I may as well also mention it now for those who want to know, Camellia is 24 currently. And as a 25 year old myself, I know I would NEVER be able to raise a child as I am now. We're both still babies! Yet somehow my mom managed to do this whole young mother thing BY HERSELF. So having to imagine how someone would handle raising another human being while still on their own journey to fully understand themselves has really made writing Camellia's character an interesting experience thus far. And you bet your ass this "blind leading the blind" situation has alot to do with the way Rose develops, and the roles he has to play later on.   
> That being said...I touched on this a tiny bit in the last chapter, but the whole cultural aversion to homosexuality is hinted at more explicitly here. I really enjoy writing adult characters discussing subjects they've been taught are taboo, and observing how that reflects on the generation they're raising. But even more than that, I love exploring the nuances of changing ideologies over time... So be ready for that rollercoaster ride ovo
> 
> Next chapter is none other than Gabriel!~
> 
> Til then, see ya :D


	5. Pa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, it's been...  
> a WHILE haha. But i'm back with Gabriel's chapter (which was a TON of fun to write and gave me way more characters I'd love to see again than I was prepared for) ! I also have alot of very important notes at the end, so until then--  
> Enjoy~!

He was one man among many, steeped in this earthy, dimly lit darkness. The repetitive pang of pick to mineral, the low rumble of machinery, accented with the occasional melody of one worker’s hum catching on like wildfire before being snuffed out by the manager on duty. Some men would find these conditions suffocating.

Gabriel found himself quite at peace.

The familiar shock of the noontime horn shook its way through their ranks, machine rumbles falling away in the presence of such a loud, flat noise. But only for a second. Like durant, they all shuffled about - meticulously removing bits of gear and sitting them aside for the brief reprieve. Quickly and efficiently shielding their eyes from the admittedly dim - yet still unrelenting for men who had spent several hours in near pure black - light of the lunch room. 

“O’er here!”

“Let’s see whatcha got on ya today, yeah?”

“Ah see, that wife of yours is a good woman she is”

Gabriel chuckled to himself as the usual groups clumped together like woolen cloth, at their usual tables with their usual chatter. He staked himself out a nice seat farthest from the stacked coolers at the opposite end of the room - where most of the commotion resided during their brief half hour break. Peeling back the layers of his plastic grocery store bag, he found the small sandwich thankfully where he’d left it - although the poor thing had sweated considerably. And in another act of peeling, he cast aside the discomfort of damp, sticky bread on his newly cleaned fingertips and took a healthy bite. Looks like another salad sandwich - full of greens and reds and oranges - none of them meats. 

“MmmHmm.”

_‘No wonder Rose didn’t want much to do with these. Healthy, but not much fun are they?’_

Washing down the last swallow with a warm swig of water, he crumpled up the remains of the wrapper and tucked them back into the plastic bag, standing from his solitary seat.

_‘Gotta remember to let him know this weekend that Pa gets it.’_

He was sure to be as quick as possible with eating, as the shift board often saw most of its crowds during lunch and post 5pm - understandable considering nobody got much of a break before those times. Gabriel rolled his shoulders as he walked upon the crowd, with many of them discussing their post work pre-planned activities.

“Let’s head to town?”

“Where you thinking?”

“Im apt to take the bus to Locheed myself”

“Locheed?? You know, after the work day we’ve had…”  
“AND it’s friday, relax a little man!”

The chitter chatter left with them as Gabriel awaited his turn, leaning against a badly lit pillar. A perfect little act of camouflage as he watched waves of his coworkers ebb and flow around the dinky cork board - a tiny, pitiful thing with barely a grip on the wall, and covered in papers etched with fading pen. Someone considered that a good idea, for some reason. Or perhaps not, as one of the managers had installed a battery powered light above the board that unfortunately buzzed constantly and shone more towards the crowd than the board itself - when it wasn’t running out of juice that is.

Gabriel felt the corners of his mouth rise at the idea that with all the money his industry of choice seemingly brought in, some superior of his still had a crazen fear of that new technology known as a home printer. 

“Hm.”

He could be found chuckling to himself away from the crowd quite a bit, he realized. Perhaps that solitary attitude is why the occasional coworker took it upon themselves to invite him to their afterwork activities. So he could _explain with the class_ , so to speak.. As the newly arrived men drank in their fill of the schedule and swirled out of view, Gabriel took a few steps closer. A few steps into that overhead light. A few steps into a particular person’s view - someone who had been looking for the dark-skinned man in this dimly lit environment full of talking heads of similar varieties. 

“So. You’re on Saturday morning, Sunday evening.”

That came out as more of a statement than the question Gabriel assumed it should have been. After all-

“Pardon, sir? I have off this weekend.”

He turned to meet the man both in gaze and body, stepping somewhat out the way of the board in case others needed to view it in his stead. The manager on duty standing before him - a peach-skinned, flushed face older man of relatively average build still clad head to toe in gear - removed his dusty glasses and unsheathed a cleaning cloth from his right upper pocket.

“Yes i’m aware, but unfortunately we need someone to fill in for Andrew on cleanup the next two days and you’re one of the most reliable men I know.”

Gabriel opened his mouth slightly before receiving a swift pat on the shoulder from Bowie - who had replaced his glasses and made a quick heel turn out of the situation. He paused, turning back slightly

“I’ll see you at 10am, yeah?”

Now that was a question the way the other should have been phrased. And as the taller darker skinned man straightened himself out for a response, Bowie seemed to curl into himself a bit - posture slumping as he realized just how little flattery might work in this situation.

“Sir!” 

Bowie flinched at the mysterious hand clutching his shoulder, turning to see one of the new recruits - a younger man probably Gabriel’s age, with shaggy blonde hair he could constantly be seen wiping from his blue eyes if he hadn’t tied it back properly for a day’s work. 

“Sorry to startle you--”

“You’ve done no such thing, Daniel. Now, what do you need me for?”

Daniel took swift glances at Gabriel, the board, and then back at Bowie.

“W-well..y’see..I actually just put in the notice so i’m sure it hasn’t been filled yet, but--”

“Yes. Yes. Out with it, Daniel, please, or do you _want_ to keep me all break?”

“Oh, right! I talked with Andrew. I’m taking his cleaning shifts Saturday morn and Sunday noon.”

The pause-fueled tension was - as one might say - thick enough to cut with a knife, as Bowie peered back to Gabriel - deep into the man’s emerald eyes.

_You pay the new recruit to do your work?_

Gabriel could sense from the glare, before the man turned back around to address things.

“I see. Well you are aware the weekend duties involve cleaning of machinery and things such as the breakroom?”  
“Yes, sir. I was made quite aware that the _cleaning shifts_ involved _cleaning_.”

“Hmhm..” 

Daniel’s eyes lit up as Gabriel chuckled to himself in the background, the blonde man scanning past Bowie to take in the sight of his stockier peer turning away to get in a few laughs. And Gabriel? Well aware his reaction was being analyzed - something he wasn’t quite a stranger to. But where there were once warm admirations were now cold daggers constructed of a pride in shambles as Bowie shot him a glare. He cleared his throat and returned to his usual stoic stance. Arms loosely crossed as the rest of the considerably short scenario played out in the wake of that obtrusive post-noon horn.

“I see.” Bowie began, wiping his glasses once more “Well i’ll see you tomorrow at 10am. You can get the specific time for your Sunday shift then.”

“Thank you sir. I understand..!”

Mixed in with Daniel’s gratitude was an acknowledgement of something - a certain something which Gabriel found himself curious about as the man shot him one more glance while the lunch room flared up around them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Good work, everyone. Weekenders, rest well. The rest of ya, **stay out of trouble**.”

Came the call from up on high.

“Yes sir!”

Gabriel, sat perched on a nearby rock away from the crowd, lifted his own voice in tandem with the others. A deep and strong rallying response to confirm they’d _at least heard_ Bowie’s closing words for the day. But upon receiving the confirmation, their manager removed his crusted glasses and stared at the lot of them with heavy lids, pausing to glare and grumble for just a moment before turning back to his trailer to retrieve a more suitable lens cleaner. And with Bowie’s disappearance over the large hill, conversation erupted. The bulk of it extended from the lunch room chatter earlier. Standing, Gabriel beat one boot after the other against the rock, the free-falling mud and dirt clumping at his feet. 

“Yes?” 

He turned to the few men approaching him from behind, softening the features of his face as he watched two of the three instinctually freeze in place. 

_‘I suppose that came out sounding a bit off put, didn’t it…’_

“ Sorry, wasn’t sure who--”

“Nahh, mate, it’s _you_! No biggie.” 

Ah, the other two men were led by Erik - perhaps the coworker in the lead with the biggest “come to dinner with us” streak according to Gabriel’s recent memory. He smiled at being let off the hook for his somewhat cold response, but there was just one thing he couldn’t quite let pass.

“What do you mean _it’s you_?” he chuckled, crossing his arms coyly. He imagined that, from a distance, his higher position on the rock probably made this scenario seem a bit antagonistic. And to certain others, it did...But Erik responded by crossing his own arms before freeing a hand up to stroke that thick ginger beard of his.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean, mate! You’re nothin if not a big socially daft bewear, aren’t ya?” The proclamation was followed by a genuine laugh as the other men behind him tensed up a bit, a response Gabriel - even through his smile - felt a bit confused by. Erik read the energy, and threw up his patented disclaimer

“Nothin’ funny meant, of course. We’re all _boys_ here!”

“None taken.” Gabriel took a slight bunnelby hop from the rock, dusting himself off before straightening up and placing a hand on Erik’s shoulder 

“Sorry, I can’t come with you though. Gotta straighten up for tomorrow.”

“It’s all good, got company i’m assuming?”

_‘How did he…’_

The pure shock on the notoriously stoic man’s face gave the ginger quite the reason to grin ear to ear - already red face flushing beyond its natural hue with the rush of energy.

“I saw you was working last holiday! Figured since you’re off for this one, you’re seein the kiddo. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Erik leaned in with an elbow gesture towards Gabriel as the man sighed at having been found out. He specifically didn’t mention his disappointment at missing Rose’s last holiday, as he surely wasn’t the only one with an inconvenient schedule. But the hidden intentions of this socially daft Bewear were no match for this ever inquisitive Indeedee of a man. Although with that devilish, self-assured grin, perhaps he was more akin to an eager Impidimp.

“Oh, can’t forget the lovely Camellia. I imagine you’ll be seein her as well!”

“That’s right.”

“Good. I hope you have a great time, mate! Although..speakin of good times and lovely ladies..”

Gabriel, and the other two men braced themselves for where this segue could possibly lead, but neither of them had expected the strong-armed Erik to march over and drag a shy, shambling blonde from the shadows. 

“It’s you from earlier..??” 

“H-Hello Gabriel…”

Erik paused, and Daniel quickly snatched his arm away, observing for bruises as the ginger addressed his larger friend

“Ya’ll met already, mate? Then that’ll make this a lot easier!”

Head cocked, he turned back to the blonde

“Does _you from earlier_ have a name?”

“It’s Daniel...sir..”

“Danieelll~! C’mon, mate, stand up straight there! You’re bout as pretty and demure as a lovely lass yourself, but you won’t make it through the night in that condition--”

_‘So..that’s where he was going with that?’_

Gabriel, having acknowledged the segue, gave Daniel another look over. He was a frailer man with a bit of a hunch, more visually indicative of his young age than either he or Erik were. But his most defining quality, Gabriel - and apparently Erik - had noticed, was his full, shaggy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

_‘At first glance I suppose he could be mistaken for a woman..’_

But the other two men were having none of it.

“Come on, mate, be sensible” one of them, baring tan arms covered in tattoos and a casual cap over buzzed dark hair, swayed in exasperation before throwing his arms up. 

“You keep saying weird shit like that, it’s gonna sour the night.”

“What?” Erik whipped around, letting go of Daniel’s shoulders “Nothing funny meant, right? You ladies are gonna have to lighten up or _you_ won’t make it through the night either!”

A few grumbles, but nothing more was said of the conversation from Erik’s guests at that point. 

“So what do you say, Daniel? Wanna come hang out with me and my mates?”

 _‘Mates, huh…’_

Gabriel couldn’t help but glance at the two who were talking amongst themselves now, their cold energy toward him having only gotten colder it seemed. He peered down at his watch, tapping it a little to wake the thing up. It was a cheap piece of plastic, but good for letting him know when he’d technically overstayed his welcome.

“Daniel, you should head down with them. Erik’s loud, but he’ll give you a good time.”

_‘Wait, that came out--’_

“Nothing fu--”

“Hey, more importantly! That was, what--” The ginger interrupted, throwing up his fingers one digit at a time “17 words consecutively from Gabriel?? That’s a new record!”

“Was it…?” Daniel shakily arranged his own digits, shaken from the task as Erik wrapped a muscular arm around his shoulder and pulled him close

“OH yeah, mate, you’ll get along just fine.”

The blonde felt his cheeks tingle a bit, whipping his attention toward Gabriel

“But you? You aren’t coming, did I hear that right?”

“Nooo noo, Gabriel’s not gonna join us tonight, mate. It’s a tragedy, really--”

With a sigh and a slight smile, the man in question reached knowingly into his pant pockets and pulled forth what, for Erik, was a jingling delight. 

“Awwwhh, you shouldn’t have.” The ginger shot Gabriel a purposefully saccharine look as the man twirled the keys to his pickup.

  
  
  
  


The Car Bay had a hilariously self-important name for what was essentially a collection of 4 or 5 old faded, beat-up vehicles in some semblance of a row. Vans were popular for their ability to mass transport - and besides the more people, the more gas money division right? - but there were a couple small cars as well. And at the end of the lot sat a solitary pickup truck with a sizable bed. 

“Ahhh, ol’ Lucy. She’s a right good girl ain’t she.”

“She gets me where I need to be, I reckon.” Gabriel’s brow furrowed a bit as Erik slapped the bumper sensually, shooting him the usual Erik look. 

_‘Yes. An imp, indeed.’_

“Who’s Lucy?” Tanner, one of Erik’s guests who had thankfully opened up on the extensive walk over, questioned. 

“Lucy’s this good ol’ faithful pickup truck here, _yes she is_ ”

Raven, the man baring tan tattooed arms, grimaced a bit at the ginger _baby talking a literal vehicle_ , as they hopped onto the bed. Daniel turned to Gabriel, hopping into the passenger seat - as per Erik’s demand - and fastening his seatbelt.

“You named your truck?”

“Hm? Oh, I suppose.”

Well _...he_ didn’t necessarily name it, but considering he could have called it something else or nothing at all during his stay on Stonkirk, his endorsement was pretty clear.

“That’s cute..reminds me of something my daughter would do.”

Lucy grumbled and shook to full startup, the initial smell of gas making his blonde guest frown and cough a bit. Checking the rear to make sure everyone was set - and receiving a series of thumbs ups - Gabriel shifted into gear and leaned back to throw an arm over the seat shoulder.

“You have a daughter?”

Daniel watched intensely as the slightly surprised response came from a man not focusing on him at all, rather expertly backing out and maneuvering around the rocky terrain of the makeshift parking lot.

“Daniel?”

Returning to face the road, Gabriel gave a quick side glance to the blonde, assuming he either hadn’t heard him or wasn’t sure if he was being directly addressed due to him focusing on backing up.

“You know..watching you do that almost makes me want to get my license.” 

Daniel’s shoulders dropped, falling back to rest his elbow on the window sill and back against the seat.

“ _Almost_. Haha. If I had the money for it”

“Yeah? It’s expensive.” A right turn, a left turn, and they were out the rocks.

“And hard, i’d imagine.” Daniel continued.

“Hmhm. It’s pretty difficult. But easy once you get the hang of it. Calming, even.”

“I bet. Getting to go wherever you want whenever sounds amazing. So, how did you do it?”

“Pardon?” 

He could afford a quick glance to the blonde, but only a quick one, as they were approaching the main road now - the small little cliffside miner’s settlement coming into view, painted in hues of reds and oranges.

“How did you get a car with them being so expensive? Or, well, A truck. Lucy, I mean.”

“Ohhhh, right.” Gabriel stroked his beard, unsure of how deep he was willing to go into this.

“I have an arrangement. So i’m actually borrowing the truck, if that makes sense.”

“An _arrangement_ , huh?”

Before Gabriel was able to respond, Erik tapped on the center window, sliding it open cautiously as not to startle the two.

“Right turn here, mate!”

“We aren’t going to yours?”

“Nope, Tanner’s got ride arrangements to Locheed tonight so we’re gonna be waiting out at his. Oh, Daniel you’re gonna love Tanner’s new yamper pup. She’s electrifying, Ha!” 

Daniel quickly shifted towards the back to address the idea of him going to Tanner’s, but just as sudden as his entry, Erik’s exit was equally so. And before he knew it, they were rounding the bend and parked in front of the home - just one ragged white patch in this wall of shanty residences.

Erik vaulted himself from the bed, as Tanner and Raven helped one another down. Watching as the ginger began coming around to the passenger side, Daniel shrunk into himself, uttering in a bit of a whisper.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, would you take me home? Not sure i’ve got the extra funds to head out to town tonight...plus..”

“Hey, Hey, we’re here, mate!” 

The ferocity with which Erik yanked open Lucy’s door earned him a stern look from her driver, and the man coyly hid guilty hands behind his back, grinning widely.

“Easy. And I’m taking Daniel to his” Gabriel - arms folded - rested forward against the wheel.

“Awhhh, not coming along after all?” 

“No..maybe next time. Thanks for the invite though, _mate_.”

That final bit lit the ginger’s face ablaze.

“ABSOLUTELY!”

Erik and the others waved away the pickup truck, disappearing along the shoddy horizon like durant in a cardboard box village. Something Gabriel mused to himself about as Daniel assured him that his place wasn’t too far from there.

“Hey, thanks for that…”

“Hm?”  
“For letting Erik know, I mean.”

“Oh, of course. Of course.” He rolled down the window, squeaky as it was “Consider it proper compensation for dealing with Bowie earlier.”

“Haha..yeah, that..I mean, as if the ride wasn’t enough?”

Daniel ventured out a bit, tapping Gabriel’s shoulder in a casual gesture and observing the response: Another slight chuckle, those same shoulders bouncing slightly.

“Man, about your _arrangement_. I need one of those.”

“Hm?” 

That was a bit of a strange assertion, considering it had never been clarified what the specific arrangement was. But leave it to Gabriel to be unsure of how he should approach asking for said clarification. Luckily, as Lucy pulled into a slightly nicer looking neighborhood, Daniel saw it fit to continue

“I need an arrangement so I can get a car. Not that i’d drive many places...but it’d be nice to have for my girl, y’know?”

“Your daughter?” Once more the man looked him up and down, once more he acknowledged how young he looked. How he absolutely could not have had a child at driving age...right?

“Or do you mean her mother?”

“Oh no, no, my daughter. Granted, she’s only a good 4 years old--”

“She’s a wee thing, then!” 

Gabriel couldn’t stifle the sudden outburst - a concoction of “I knew it” and admiration for the man looking so far ahead for his child. It probably came out a bit mocking, though..

“She IS. Just the cutest, wee little thing!! I want her to be able to go wherever she wants when she gets of age. If i’ve got to bust rocks every day, invest in a car now and pay it off by the time she can drive, I’ll do that.”

There was a certain glow to him now...afternoon sunset reflecting in those golden locks, mixing with the exuberation of fatherhood present in his look and tone. Gabriel couldn’t help but smile tenderly as Lucy screeched to a halt in front of the man’s home. Daniel came down from his contagious high, noticing their arrival.

“Oh, right! You have a kid too don’t you, Gabriel? That’s why you needed the weekend off - for the holiday?”

The shock was a bit less evident this time, as Gabriel assumed Daniel had overheard from his stint watching them behind that rock earlier, but he found himself equally as speechless about the idea of addressing the admittedly selfish reason for his time off.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel continued “ You deserve it for working so hard! And i’m sure both your kid and - Camellia was it? - are gonna appreciate you being there.”

_‘They definitely will.’_

He warmly recalled his few phone calls with Rose over the past few months, each one tacking on about 30 more things to do when they were able to get together again.

As Daniel clicked open the truck door and took a single step out, he turned back again

“I’ll see you next week..! Oh, before I go, what’s their name?”

“Hm?”

“Your kid?”

“Rose.” 

It was near impossible for that name to come out without Gabriel’s slight beaming, and Daniel picked up on that pretty quickly.

“Rose, huh? She sounds precious!”

“Papa!!”

“Please be careful, don’t run!”

From the yard came the voices of a woman and an extremely excited ball of blonde hair, tiny legs kicking up the edges of her pastel pink dress as she ran to meet her pa - and he, her. Daniel scooped the girl up, spinning her around and turning back to coerce her into waving at Gabriel before joining his lady on the steps.

Lucy seemed to grumble in response as he switched the gear once more. Elbow pressed firmly against the windowsill and head casually resting on his hand, Gabriel felt the corners of his mouth rise in slight amusement.

_‘She, huh?’_

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


On Stonkirk’s westernmost shore, tucked far away from most major settlements, sat a small cottage on large plot. As Gabriel pushed Lucy to her limit, trudging through the soft sand before pulling onto a more compact path, he kept weary of wriggling weeds. Watching for any sneaky orange tails poking out from the vegetation. Parking at the base of the hill, he grabbed his helmet and gently locked Lucy up for the night. Stopped by the crooked mailbox, its mouth overflowing with rolled newspapers, bank statements, bills, and--

_‘...He didn’t..’_

Gabriel shoved the neatly addressed envelope in with the rest of the postage and closed the gate behind him, making his way up the hill to the cottage. The sounds of crashing waves and dissonant bleeting flooded his ears, gentle beach grass greeting his knees as he trudged on through the overgrown path - careful of which stones he relied upon in reaching his destination. As usual the tired old house awaited his return before springing alive, his presence sending previously resting critters scurrying all around. Gabriel pressed a shoulder to the door, jiggling the doorknob gently, sighing in relief as he was granted entry. 

And now for his nightly duties.

No intruders, save for a few of the locked bedrooms he had no access to. Good. Pipes under the sink had no surprises for him this afternoon - although perhaps he should run the water for a little just to make sure. It had been about a week, after all. As a few droplets splashed about, deflected coldly by the sink’s metal interior, Gabriel could see where a thick layer of dust had begun forming on the countertops.

“Wonder if it’s time to call the cleaners...hm.”

Everything else was as it should have been. Windows tightly shut, making the house admittedly a bit stuffy - a real shame with the cool spring breeze the man so sorely missed at this moment. 

He paused, realizing he had been carrying everything around while checking, and chuckled a bit to no one as he sat his helmet on the wooden kitchen table and grabbed a creaky chair. Letters and other postage belonged in the plastic tub sat in the chair closest to the wall. Sorting was simple, really. He was to report bills of any urgency via phone, set aside any post cards, toss out what the man called “nagging nasties”, and set all mailed checks on their proper route - whether that meant going towards bills or…

“Hmm..”

Gabriel deeply examined the envelope addressed to him, perhaps for longer than he needed to. He ran the slender letter opener through the top, careful not to damage any of the contents - a few meal coupons for local extensions of mainland Galar restaurant chains, a picture of the man with which he’d made this arrangement, and finally a check.

“That Josep.”

That Josep, indeed. As if it wasn’t enough that the man was letting him stay there already, he occasionally sent “payment” for taking care of his little cottage while he was away on travel. Gabriel couldn’t help but recall the gruff laughter the older fellow bellowed as the young dark skinned boy - stood before him in the same clothes he had been wearing for a good week, with sacks stuffed full that barely passed for luggage - assured him that he did not infact need financial compensation. 

_‘Just a roof over my head, sir, if you’ll please’_

Gabriel echoed the words of his naive self as a warmth rose to his cheeks, a bit embarrassed but deeply thankful for his words being blatantly ignored for the past 4 years. Whenever the traveling man could afford to throw some side cash his way in between all the rent and bills payments, that is. But Gabriel would be remiss to assert that the money was for nothing, and with the mental realignment in tow, he stood and headed for the small backyard farm.

  
  
  
  


“Long day, Mack?”

Gabriel rubbed along the Mudsdale’s flank before trailing the hand across his muzzle. He smiled gently as a warm puff of air met his palm, the pokemon sighing - almost in agreement - before rising to his mighty 8 foot stature. Mack stretched, shaking clean of dainty white petals that had lazily settled on his crest from the sagging tree above. Gabriel took a casual lean against that same tree as the pokemon got itself in order, limbs cracking and popping from age. It was something he’d shown deep concern over when he first arrived at this property 4 years ago.

_“Don’t ye worry, Mack here’s still a workhorse at heart! He’s more sturdy than ye give em’ credit for”_

Josep had reassured him, before handing him the well crafted saddle and teaching him how to mount the creature.

“..?? Oh...” Gabriel was shaken from his thoughts as another huff from Mack graced his forehead. He reached up, picking at what were now noticeably longer locks - unrested by the sudden air.

_‘Perhaps I need a cut…’_

Noticing once again his observer’s blatant stare, he decided to pose the question out loud to his silent partner, the Mudsdale trotting forward a bit in response - as if to denote that they should really get going.

“You’re no good at this yourself, are you? Guess i’ll ask the lady tomorrow morn’.”

One by one, just as they always did in late afternoon, each of Josep’s wooloo came rolling towards the barn from the fields with Mack at their heels. Occasionally a small lamb would get stuck in a thicket, prompting Gabriel to gently unroll the baby and help it on its clumsy little way.

“Hold here.”

Mack came to a solid stop, resting down at the back of the herd as he was swarmed by its children. The older wooloo occupied themselves with grazing at the front of the barn as Gabriel inspected their hay filled bays for Nickit, Theivul and the like. Something he perhaps should have done before sending the Mudsdale out on round-up duty - an idea he tossed around while prodding carefully with that old rake. And with a resounding

“All good. Bring em’ in, Mack.”

Gabriel sighed in content at the completion of his afternoon duties, abandoning the sturdiness leaning against the rake to stretch his tired back, before shutting up the bleeting barn.

“Night, old head.” 

Mack, the barn’s steadfast guardian, neighed in response.

  
  
  


The door to Gabriel’s beachside, secondhand RV creaked a bit more than usual it seemed. Located at the base of the hill, in the shadow of that old cottage, Josep’s “vacation camper” had been Gabriel’s home away from home for 4 years now. It was...condensed at best. With it’s tight little center walkway and obtrusively roomy cabinets. And while it absolutely got some decent natural lighting, Gabriel’s newly budding headache would’ve appreciated the dark, warm confines of the cottage much more at this moment. 

Grabbing a thin sheet from the floor - one that could only lead to a temporary slumber - he spread out on his rickety caravan bed and took to getting in a few sleeping hours before inevitably waking up to fill his already growling stomach.

_‘I should probably...set an alarm..proper..’_

The last thought before sinking into that earthly, dark abyss...

  
  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


“Hey Nan.”

“.....”

“Hey Nan?”

“.....”

“Naaaannn--”

“I’ve heard ye the first time Rose.”

“Oh. Okay!”

The 4 year old bounced enthusiastically on the front door’s steps while simultaneously shielding his emerald eyes from bright rays of sunlight. His Nan firmly responding while watering the garden. He scanned her face, watching as her attention very slowly turned towards him with a single peripheral glance.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Do ye know where i’m goin??”

The pep in that little voice would’ve betrayed him if his increased bouncing and sudden rise from the steps didn’t already. Dahlia rolled her eyes, shrugging a bit before raising an eyebrow inquisitively as the boy moved slightly closer, grasping the stair rail. 

“D’yoo know where yer goin?--”

“Pa!!”

The question wasn’t out 2 whole seconds before receiving a response she immediately thought of as way too energetic for how early it was. Rose, having squished his face between the stairway rails, pulled back excitedly. Suddenly.

“Yer gonna get that big ol head of yers stuck.”

Dahlia laughed as her grandson very swiftly followed up his previous action, whining a bit when the attempted removal of his head was met with some resistance. This only made her giggle more, and noticing the boy rubbing behind his ears with a poked out lip, she added

“Ohh yer alriiiight.”

It wasn’t until he sprinted from the steps and breezed past her dripping, frazzled plants did she realize.

That man had arrived.

“ROSE. STOP.” 

Came Gabriel’s booming voice, one frantically outstretched hand following in lieu of every instinct in him pushing him forward. But Rose had already come to a natural halt at the end of the driveway while a car lazily drifted past, and the man couldn’t figure out whether he’d just saved his son’s life, or the boy knew better than to cross the street in the first place. It was hard to tell what he’d picked up in their months apart.

“Pa!!!” 

A shrill cry followed by the usual clinging, this time to Gabriel’s leg. And as he knelt down to return the affection, the pounding in his chest became decreasingly relevant. A worked up pulse seemingly set to the rhythm of Lucy’s early morning radio hits, which was admittedly a welcome spin on the panic.

“Look at youuu!”

“Me?”

Rose craned his neck, scanning himself over at the man’s remark - a reaction that bought a huge smile to his old man’s face as he scooped the boy up into his arms.

_‘Oh, Rose...’_

“It’s like ye want the boy to get hit, yeah?”

The comment struck like ice cold water on a hot summer’s day, Gabriel looking past the boy in his arms to his nan tending the garden closer to the house.

“Pardon…?” 

Inquisitive, but not too confrontational. Rather delicate, his response was. As he’d geared it to be when handling interactions with the woman.

“Park closer next time.”

“Park by pop!” Rose chimed in, adding some much needed levity to Dahlia’s somewhat confusing demand - barely even giving Gabriel enough time to puzzle whether her intentions were meant to validate his existence or merely to enforce another rule.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He had almost failed to respond - possibly a costly mistake in the long run - as his son had now arrested his attention. A squirming ball of energy trying and failing to navigate the complicated web of emotions flowing between the two adults in his life. But enough of that, Gabriel decided, focusing on something else instead.

The 4 year old was sporting a bright yellow shirt with a single orange stripe and neatly pressed collar, accented by a pair of sandy brown shorts which made him chuckle a bit to himself.

_‘That Camellia, always thinking ahead.’_

He wasn’t sure if this was a brand new outfit for beach day, or if he’d forgotten his son’s wardrobe in the face of that ever present Galar Greens Elementary uniform. But regardless of his tossing thoughts, Rose had plans of his own. He placed a soft, tiny hand on the man’s neck - specifically that increasingly fascinating place that kept moving whenever he’d make a sound.

“That’s my adam’s apple. Hmmmm?”

Gabriel added more unnecessary sounds to see that little face light up. Rose, though taken by the feeling of the vibrations, had just one thing on his mind

“Who’s adam?”

  
  


“Alright--oh, yer already here??”

From the front door of the gray house came Camellia, very clearly scrambling with some larger than usual baggage as loose locks befell her face. Gabriel gently sat Rose back down - the child making grabby hands in an effort to reclaim his held position but quickly realizing his time was quite finished. 

“Pardon.” 

The dark skinned man sent a brief apologetic nod Dahlia’s way as he crossed into her threshold to reach the steps. He grabbed each of Camellia’s bags, effortlessly tossing the backpack onto his muscular back, and carrying the rolling bag to the base of the steps where he was met with an eager Rose trying to help out as well. 

“Oh come now..” the younger woman mumbled at her partner’s back, watching her mother from the corner of her eyes as she swallowed a small lump in her throat before adding a tiny

“Thanks, Gabe.”

Upon hearing his name, the man turned back and gave her a small reassuring smile.

“Be back before the street lights, ye hear.”

Dahlia’s tone wasn’t particularly stricter than usual in that moment, but rather a bit flat. A defeated sort of flat, even, Camellia thought as she whispered as quietly as possible

“Yes, I know, but. We’re..staying the night this time--”

A woman’s brows could not furrow more than her mother’s at this exact instant, that look alone enough to send chills down her spine. And thus came the expected response, the response that warranted such hesitance in the first place-

“Staying the night?? And who--”

A response that naturally came out quite a bit louder than Camellia had hoped, as Rose had stopped struggling with the suitcase seemingly glued to his Pa’s hand to beam

“Staying the night?? That’s why we have big bags??”

“Mum?”

“Mum are we really staying the night??”

Camellia tore away from Dahlia’s glare for just long enough to pat Rose on the head and affirm that the meowth had, unfortunately, been let out of the bag. Gabriel turned away and chuckled in the background before his legs were suddenly attacked. Well, attacked with all the mildly amusing vigor of a bouncing 4 year old bursting with excitement for a long promised sleepover. 

Rose looked up at his Pa, over at his mum, to his nan. Down at his legs. They were shaking. He was tapping rapidly. It was time to tackle that big old suitcase again, he figured, as they had no time to waste. He rolled up his already short sleeves and wrapped himself securely around the bag again to lift with all his might. In the background, his mum hesitantly returned to that gaze which once judged her. Instead greeted by a gentle amusement smoothing out those prior wrinkles.

“Right.Have fun, then.”

A glance at Gabriel, the slight return of that furrowed brow.

“And stay safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a good 3 months since my last chapter, and I'm still working to get back on my feet with things right now (after losing my job due to covid back in july). But while I have some free time i'm looking into working on both of my projects
> 
> I realized A03 is kind of disconnected from the rest of my social media/art life haha, so I want to let you guys know where else you can find me. Another hiatus is inevitably coming up, perhaps for the rest of this year but i'm unsure. My plan right now is to use october to actually plan out the rough drafts of a good chunk of Anthesis, and then use NaNoWriMo to finalize those chapters. I'm trying very hard not to rush or overexert myself, so I don't have to worry about that type of anxiety that comes with procrastination haha A big part of this is, unfortunately, limiting the amount of images i'll be using for each chapter. Instead of insert pictures, i'll be using a single cover pic. I'm actually really excited about it, because I also love creating covers for my pokemon webcomic, Leftovers.
> 
> So that said, here's where else you can find me while you wait for new chapters!:
> 
> Read leftovers: http://www.deviantart.com/pcaara
> 
> Twitter (art) - @Pcaara  
> Twitter (Rose specific) - @Dafter_D  
> Instagram - @dasiadoodles  
> Youtube, where you can watch my blind playthrough of pokemon sword:  
> http://www.youtube.com/user/pokeball26
> 
> until next time, thanks for reading!!


End file.
